


Re: Mad God

by LittleWatty



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWatty/pseuds/LittleWatty
Summary: This is the original version of Issandi's story. At one point I was going to describe how Issandi went from random passerby to Mezkan, but decided not to as it would be a long boring story that I wouldn't even be able to stand writing XD I started it, but never finished. I did, however, start and finish Issandi's story. Its just... missing a few unimportant details.I created a video for this back in the day that can be found here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRH0GD8JAic





	1. Chapter 1

“Can we keep him, can we keep him?” Issandi begged, bouncing up and down with the injured puppy in her arms. She had found it out by the stable, trampled by a horse. It was badly injured, but oh so cute still. Its liquid brown eyes and patchy coat, little Issandi just couldn’t leave it there. 

“No,” Eyja said, placing a hand on the young girls head. “I’m sorry. He’s too far gone.” Tears welled up in Issandi’s eyes as she looked down at the little puppy, not noticing that it had died while she carried it there. 

“If my mother were here she’d let me!” Issandi screamed, running out the door. 

“Come back here!” the maid yelled after her, but she didn’t stop. She was well away from t he city when she heard the guards coming after her on horses. Desperate, she climbed up the branches of a young spruce tree, holding the puppy to her chest as the guards dashed by. They were clearly looking for her, but she didn’t want to be found. Issandi stayed in the tree until the guards passed by again, heading back to town. It was near dusk, and they were smart to give it up. She climbed down the branches, but as she did, the puppy slipped from her arms. It hit several branches on the way down, laying in a mangled pile in the dirt. She cried, partly for the puppy, partly because she wanted to go home. But she couldn’t! Not with that meanie. Issandi walked down the Gold Road, following it aimlessly until she saw a large, hollowed stump on the ground. It was well past dark and she was exhausted, that tree seemed like the perfect place to lay down and shut her eyes for a bit. She curled up in the leaves, keeping far enough back into the stump to not be seen from the road, and closed her eyes. 

The next morning came and went, the young Imperial not waking until early afternoon. The sun’s rays crept into her shelter, causing her to wake. Issandi yawned, stretching her arms, and looked out onto the road. There was no one for miles. Pulling herself out and brushing what she could off of her dress, she walked down the road in the same direction she had been heading the night before. In time, avoiding a few Legion patrols, she managed to reach the Green Road and from there, Bravil. The guard gave her a sidelong look, but let her pass into the city. She was dirty and tired, like most of the citizens that came through here. Another one, even as young as she was, did not strike anyone as strange. Issandi’s stomach growled, and she wrapped her arms around it. She didn’t have any money or food on her. But there were plenty of places for her to find food. She knocked on every door, asking for a bit of food, but was always turned away. Eventually, she came to a house where no one answered. The door was unlocked, so she let herself in. It was dirty, but there was plenty of food. She ate what she could, a couple apples, the occasional sweet roll, and took a nap in the bedroom upstairs. 

She was woken up at dusk by the sound of the front door slamming. Issandi shot up, bolting down the stairs. “Hey – what the!” a male Dunmer shouted in surprise as she ran past him. She grabbed what food she could, taking off out the door. The guards didn’t stop her, nor did the Dunmer come after her. Thievery was common in the city, and a few parcels of food was no big deal. But Issandi didn’t know that, and fled to the slums outside the city. Beggars and lepers hissed at her, so she kept walking. There was a small boat on the edge of the shore, pulled up onto the sand, where she finally sat down to rest. She finished the cheese she had stolen, laying back in the boat to watch the sunset. When the only light was from the two moons, Masser and Secunda, and the stars, Issandi shut her eyes. During the night, the tide rose and lifted the small boat from the shore. The current caused it to drift out into the Niben Bay, to a small Island no one had yet noticed. Odd plants scattered the surface, some light others dark. On the very top of the island stood an odd stone structure of three faces, the middle with a glowing portal. The boat landed softly on this island, marooning when the tide lowered again. 

Issandi woke slowly in the morning, crawling out of the boat and onto shore. She didn’t notice the difference between where she fell asleep and where she woke up until she rubbed her eyes and took the time to look around. Far behind her, Bravil could be seen. There was no chance of her swimming or rowing herself back, so Issandi continued onto the island. The large door scared her, but she was a curious child and continued forward. Placing one foot in front of the other, holding a hand out to be sure she didn’t run face first into something, she passed through the blue portal into a dark room. “Well, what do we have here?” an older man sitting at the table asked in a bored tone, lifting his eyebrow. “Who might you be.” 

Issandi looked him over, her blue eyes showing a bit of fear, but also great curiosity. “Issandi Hassildor,” she said quietly.

“Well, Issandi Hassildor, might you take a seat.” She nodded, pulling herself up onto the odd stone chair across the table from him. “Tell me, Issandi, how did you get here?” She shrugged, looking around the dreary room. It wasn’t as interesting as the island had been. The man nodded, looking at her curiously. “How old are you, Issandi Hassildor?” 

She licked her dried lips, placing her hands in her lap. “Five, sir.” 

“That is most troublesome. My Lord.” The man turned away, looking to the back corner of the room. Issandi followed his gaze, wondering what it is he was looking at. She didn’t see anything there. 

“What, what!” a loud voice with an odd accent bounced around the room. In the corner she had been staring at, a man appeared out of thin air wearing a tailored jacket of purple and green, split directly down the middle. “Can’t you do your job, Haskill? Why – oh.” He paused when he saw Issandi sitting in the chair. “Who is this little poppet?” 

“Issandi Hassildor, my Lord. She’s five.” 

“Five! Well now! You look more like a mouse than an Issandi Hassildor. A mouse. Yes! That’s what I’ll call you! Mouse!” He laughed, kneeling down beside her. “Well now, My little mouse, what are you doing in my Fringe?” 

She looked over to Haskill, unsure of what to do. “Its alright, you can answer the question.” 

“I ran away from home.” 

“Now why did you do that?” The man’s golden eyes looked her over, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

“Eyja was being a meanie.” 

“A meanie! Well, how ‘bout that!” He laughed. “How would you like to see the Isles, My little mouse?” 

“My Lord Sheogorath, she’s but five years old. Is that such a good idea?” 

“Of course it is! All of My ideas are good ones! Well, except when they’re not.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“Come with me My little mouse.” Sheogorath took her hand as the entire room dissolved into multi-colored butterflies. Issandi’s mouth hung open on a hinge, gaping at the new landscape. “Welcome to the Shivering Isles.”


	2. Chapter 2

She held his hand as they walked down the winding road, staring at all the new and fascinating things. But nothing had yet beat the massive showing of butterflies. She constantly pulled him towards an odd flower, or another kind of strange plant, always so curious and always wanting to see something new. Her curiosity was invigorating, keeping the smile of Sheogorath’s face. “This is nothing,” he whispered in her ear, causing her to yelp in surprise. Issandi giggled. The Mad God took a handful of dirt in his palm, blowing on it and turning it into shimmering particles that floated in the air for a moment before vanishing. The little girl cheered and clapped her hands, chanting for him to do it again. “There’s more to see than silly parlor tricks.” He rubbed a hand through her hair, grinning when she swatted his hand away. Sheogorath took her hand again, leading her down through Passwall. 

“Eww, a child,” a Dunmer male scowled fiercely when Issandi and the Mad God passed through. “They always have nasty dirty diseases.” 

“Enough, Felas. I’ll make puppets for this ‘dirty’ child out of your insides.” Issandi giggled, sticking her tongue out at him. They made their way up a series of steps, the little Imperial shrieking and hiding behind Sheogorath’s leg when they reached the top. A creature of epic proportions stood by a series of steps, a massive blade replacing one of his arms, and runes carved into its flesh. It paused, looking at them for a moment, then continued with its continual pacing. “Don’t mind the Gatekeeper, My little mouse. He won’t hurt us. Well, he might, but he shouldn’t!” Issandi never took her eyes off the creature, being sure to keep Sheogorath between her and it. Her actions only caused the Mad God to laugh. “Which door should we use?” he asked when the passed the Gatekeeper and stood at the base of the two staircases. 

“That one,” Issandi said, pointing to the one on the right. 

“Are you sure, My cute little mouse? Once you choose, you can’t take it back! Unless I want you to.” She nodded. “Alright, Dementia it is.” He helped her up the stairs, laughing as she glanced back at the Gatekeeper. Issandi grabbed his hand tightly as they walked down the long path into darkness. She had no idea how he could tell where he was going. All air left her lungs when he opened the door, illuminating the dark way. It was depressing and dreary, but still kept the young girls attention. 

“Where are we going?” she asked after they had been on the road for a ways. 

“To New Sheoth. Quite a place, really. Its new and refreshing! Refreshingly new! I think you’ll like it.” Issandi grinned, skipping along beside Sheogorath. He hopped a little himself, prancing along with her. Grinning, she started singing a song that her father taught her when she was still a few years younger. The Mad God had never heard the song before, but he was a quick learn. In no time he knew every word. Issandi giggled helplessly when he sang the entire song, spanning from a low baritone to a high soprano every few words. 

They hopped, skipped, and pranced, all the way to New Sheoth and through Crucible. The city itself made her sad, but Sheogorath seemed to brighten the place up. “The Palace,” he spoke in her ear, extending a hand out over the courtyard when they arrived. Issandi gasped, running down the stone path, and skipping around in the two completely opposite gardens. 

“I love it!” she shouted, spinning in circles. Issandi fell into the grass, giggling madly. She’d never had so much fun in her life! Everything was so new, so refreshing, and not a meanie in sight! 

She stayed in the Palace for a few days, enjoying herself immensely! Sheogorath feasted every night, inviting the little Imperial to join him at the meal. And every night, she ate herself to near bursting. Even Haskill warmed up to her, offering a slight smile every once and a while. But, over time, Issandi began to miss her home. Her brother, her father, her room with all of her things, she even began to miss Eyja after a while. The Mad God noticed her change in demeanor. “Are you sick, My little mouse?” He took her face in his hand, turning it side to side. “No blisters or boils. Just that cute little face. What’s the matter?” 

“I’m home sick,” she mumbled, sitting in his lap. 

“Sick of home? Then you should be happy! You are here! Unless, of course, you are sick of missing home?” She nodded at the latter. “Well, I suppose you best be getting home then. Take a seat, right there.” Issandi sat down on the floor in front of his throne, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. “Tah, come visit again. Or I’ll pluck out your eyes!” She giggled, hearing him laugh. Things swirled around her, turning into a blue light like the door that allowed her entrance had been. Before she knew it, she was sitting on a stone back on the Bravil shore, staring out into the Niben bay at the island. Issandi wasn’t home, but she knew how to get there. A Legion guard picked her up halfway down the Green Road, offering her a lift back to Skingrad. The man spoke of his home in the Imperial City, and about his own young daughter, but Issandi said nothing. She was thinking of the Shivering Isles, but also of getting back to see her brother. Oh, he would be so jealous! 

“’Tai! ‘Tai! You’ll never guess where I was!” she shouted, running into the house. 

“Where were you, young lady? You had me worried sick!” Eyja crossed her arms, a fierce scowl on the Nord’s features. “Thank you, kind sir, for bringing her home.” 

“It was no trouble, ma’am. Have a good day.” The Legion guard bowed slightly at the waist, closing the door behind him when he left. 

“Where did you go, Issandi?” 

“The Shivering Isles! Oh! It was amazing! The flowers were so beautiful, but depressing. And the butterflies! You’ll never believe how many there were! Hundreds!” she rambled on, telling Eyja and her brother everything she saw, heard, smelled, touched, tasted. Acktai listened intently, but the maid just shook her head. 

“I think it’s time you get some sleep, young lady. You’re imagining things.” 

“No I’m not! It was real! I was there!” 

“Of course you were, now let’s get you to bed.” Issandi crossed her arms and frowned, but obeyed. She couldn’t sleep, though. She kept replaying her time in the Isles over and over in her head. She’d go back some day when she was older. She’d have to! Or Sheogorath would pluck out her eyes. The thought made her giggle. He was such an odd man.


	3. Chapter 3

ssandi raised her goblet in a toast, swaying from side to side. She didn’t feel very good, but at the same time she was having more fun that she thought was possible! Before she could speak, she lost her balance and toppled over laughing. “Issandi!” Raqel laughed slightly. “I think you’ve had enough for the evening. Perhaps we should call it a night?” She looked over at Janus to see what he would think. She may be Countess of Skingrad now, but she still thought it was Janus’ right to decide what was best for these kinds of gatherings. 

“I would hate for one instance to ruin your evening, Lord and Lady of Skingrad,” young Gellius spoke up, bowing at the waist. “I will take her to her quarters for the evening. You enjoy the rest of the night.” 

“Thank you, Gellius. That is very sweet of you.” Raqel smiled as he led her daughter away. “He’s such a nice young lad.”

“Aye, he is,” Regulus added in, watching Gellius close the door behind him. 

The young heir of Bravil led his beautiful bounty away, but not to her quarters. He spiked her drink with his own Skooma for a reason. She had disrespected him before, and she would not do so again. Issandi giggled wildly as he locked the door to his quarters behind him. “Wha’s goin’on?” he asked with a hiccup. 

“You, Lady Issandi, are going to give yourself to me. What a better pair than the daughter of the Count of Skingrad to be wed with the would-be Count of Bravil, eh?” After Gellius had seen her at the Count’s wedding some years before, he wanted to take her as his wife. But, after he approached her with the proposal, she denied him in front of everyone. He would make that right. She would be his wife. 

“No,” she shook her head, her torso moving with it. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’re in any such position to deny me this time.” She was a powerful woman, taking after her mother who was the reigning Grand Champion of the Arena. What an odd woman to make Countess. Because of this, he knew he would have to spike her drink to make her his. Issandi threw her fist out, intending to hit him, but the Skooma had done its job and she fell sloppily to the floor. Gellius thanked his father for the little he taught him in Illusion and cast a mute spell over Issandi that would work just as he needed to. She tried to yell at him when he picked her up and carried her to the bed, but no sound came from her throat. Just as he had hoped. 

Issandi struggled against Gellius, but the Skooma in her was just too much for her to handle. Her attacks were weak, and he was able to muscle her on her back and remove the majority of her clothing. He had received a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing that wouldn’t keep him from his goal. Issandi grabbed at the sheets, trying to crawl away, but he grabbed her hips and pulled them back to him. She could feel him against her, and tried to call out again, but there was no sound. He tore off the last of her clothes, fulfilling his goal. Issandi inhaled sharply, struggling to break free of his grip, but he held her fast. Gellius kept enough pressure on her shoulders to keep her from moving against him, but most of his focus was elsewhere. 

As Gellius did what he willed, what he did not realize was that Issandi was slowly clearing her head. She was not new to drugs, but she did not like them. There were some drugs that weren’t so bad, and other’s she’d never touch again. Having experienced all of this before, both the drugs and the rape, Issandi knew how to counter it. All she needed to do was gather her thoughts, focus on getting out of the situation, and she would. Timing it just right, Issandi threw her hips back into Gellius, throwing him off balance and off the bed. She gathered her things, shouting curses that were lost in the silence spell, and out the door. She would kill the fetcher for what he had done! The room she was using for her quarters was just a few doors down, with all of her Mazken equipment, sword included. 

The halls were empty as she equipped her armor, and belted her sword, axe, and bow. It was clear this wouldn’t end well, but she had just the place to go to in retreat. Gellius was still in the room, dumbstruck by the simple fact that she had managed to overpower him, even in her drugged state. She truly was a force. The door to his room slammed against the stone as Issandi threw it open, stalking in with an evil gleam in her eyes. “I… ah.. please! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me!” 

“You walking bag of dung!” she shouted, throwing her small axe at him. It flew past his head, trimming off some hair, embedding itself deeply in the headboard. “I will kill you.” The axe hitting the headboard, not the fetcher’s head, had been intentional. She would kill him, but not before breaking him. 

“You can’t expect to get out of this castle alive, if you kill me! My father will be livid!” 

“Ah, but haven’t you realized? My family is Brotherhood, as your father knows. He would not dare stand in our way.” 

“But you are not Brotherhood yourself?” 

“No, I hold other allegiances, with other worthy adversaries. Ones you would not like to meet. You are nothing but useless mortal meat.” 

“But aren’t you –” 

“No, in fact I am not.” He stared up into her eyes, realizing then that they weren’t naturally pink. “I will drain you, mortal, and none will be the wiser. Except for my family, of course.” 

“Please, no! I beg of you, please!” Gellius’ cries were heard, and several of the guard came running. 

“You ther’! Drop yer weapon!” Issandi turned back to them, her lip turning in a snarl. “Don’ make us ‘urt you.” She sighed loudly, shaking her head. The guards all flinched into battle stances when she turned to them, but relaxed when she held her sword in the air. “Come wit’ us now, yer under a’rest for assaultin’ de Count’s son.” 

“I have to disagree,” she said, dipping her voice. 

“W’at?” Issandi’s armor clad fist met with the guard captain’s cheek, tearing open the skin and dropping him to the floor. While the others stood in disbelief, she ran through the halls and out the front gates of the Castle. She had known that it would come to something like this. But the Door was not far away, and she could get there quickly. There was a small boat, just outside the city gates that she could use to get there, given no one saw her take it. 

 

***

 

“Where has she gone!” Raqel shouted, searching the rooms of the Castle. “Gellius! Where is she?” 

“Raqel, dear, please stop yelling. We’ll find her. She can’t have gone far.” Janus placed a hand on her shoulder. Gellius had told them that they went to his room, but got into a fight. What he failed to tell them was that he assaulted her, and she was going to kill him because of it. He had always seemed a nice boy, and Raqel had hoped that Issandi would perhaps consider taking him as a husband. Perhaps then someone could fix up the dreadful city, as it was clear Regulus wasn’t going to. 

“She was dressed in this odd armor,” Gellius spoke up, pulling a blanket over his shoulders. “There wasn’t much to it, and it was made of this odd black metal. Like the axe.” 

Raqel pulled the axe out of the headboard and cursed. “Janus, she’s gone back to the Isles.” 

“At least we know she’ll be safe there. We both know that she’s held in high regard in that Realm, she’ll be fine.” 

“I know, but who’s to say how long she will be gone this time?” 

“I’m afraid I’m lost,” the young Count-to-be held up his hand. “The Isles?” 

Skingrad’s Countess rolled her eyes. “Have you not seen that door, just outside your city?” 

“No.” 

She sighed loudly. “There is a door, just outside your city, that leads to Sheogorath’s Shivering Isles. Issandi uses it as a sanctuary, to escape from those who trouble her here. Don’t even bother following her, you won’t find her until she wants you to.” Gellius frowned, but remained silent. He would find her. She would yet take him as her husband. 

 

*** 

 

Issandi stood beside Sheogorath as he shouted after the Dunmer who had just exited the Realm. “Unworthy! Unworthy! Unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walking bag of dung! A nice effort though. A shame he’s dead. These things happen. Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies. Really, do come in. It’s lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit.” She raised her eyebrow. There must have been another mortal standing outside the door waiting for entrance. 

“You’re letting in another? How many mortals have failed thus far?” 

“Of course I’m letting him in, my little mouse! They have work to do! My work. Work for Me.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

 

*** 

 

Haskill watched the Imperial enter through the door, and frowned. He didn’t seem like much, but none of them ever did. “Let’s be civil, shall we? Please, have a seat.” The young man clearly didn’t like being ordered around, but did oblige to the order. “Yes. What can I do for you? I imagine you’re here about the door?” 

“I’m actually here looking for someone… That was a door?” 

“Yes. You have entered and now you are here. Amazing. Truly.” The tone of Haskill’s voice was bored, which didn’t seem to please the young man. 

“Who are you?” he asked with a bit of venom. 

“I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Shogorath.” 

“This is the Shivering Isles, isn’t it?” 

“Nearly. You approach the Shivering Isles, but you are not yet there.” 

It was silent for a few moments, the young Imperial shifting uncomfortably. “What happens now?” He needed to look for her. She had to be around somewhere. 

“You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered. Your life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or, you may continue onward, through the door behind me. If you can pass the Gates of Madness, perhaps the Lord Sheogorath will find a use for you.” 

“And if I go through the door?” 

“Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard. Your choices are your own. Enter or do not, but make your decision. I’ve other duties to which I must attend. Speak with me again when you have made up your mind. The anticipation is almost too much to bear.” 

“I’m going through. I’m looking for someone, and I need to find her.” 

“Fine. I’m sure my Lord will be most pleased, and will be willing to help you, assuming you ever manage to see Him. You’ll want to pass through the Gates of Madness. Oh, and do mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the Realm.” He stood up from his seat, turning to the door, but paused. “May I ask, who is it you are searching for?” 

“An Imperial, a vampire, by the name of Issandi.” 

Haskill smiled. This mortal was interesting indeed. “Enjoy your stay.” 

 

*** 

 

Issandi looked expectantly at Haskill when he rematerialized beside Sheogorath. “The mortal is searching for you, Grakedrig Issandi.” She swore loudly. 

“My mouse! Why such language? I won’t have you saying such things in My Realm!” 

“Sorry, my Lord.” 

“Go find this mortal, little mouse, see what he wants. I won’t have My Grakedrig being sought out by mortals! She seeks them out!” 

Issandi bowed her head. “Yes, my Lord, I will find him.” 

“But do not help him! If he is to be My Champion, he must fight on his own.” She bowed again, leaving through the front door leading to Dementia. 

 

*** 

 

Jayred doused his last arrow in Relmyna’s tears as he took the shot. It landed squarely in the Gatekeeper’s chest. “No!” the Dunmer shouted, pushing past the Nord and Imperial. “You killed my child! No parent should outlive their child! How dare you!” Issandi walked out of the Dementia gate to see Relmyna weep over the Gatekeeper’s body. 

“He’s dead,” she called, rolling her eyes as she descended the stairs. “It’s not as though he was actually your child.” 

The Dunmer’s lips turned into a snarl as she saw Issandi coming down the steps. “You’re the one that took Sheogorath’s love away from me! Stay away from me, all of you!” She started crying, running away from the corpse of the Gatekeeper and the others. 

“The Gatekeeper is slain!” The Nord raised his bow in triumph. “Congratulations. The honor of taking the keys from his corpse is yours.” Issandi looked up at the other mortal who had been there to slay the Gatekeeper and cursed. 

“Gellius!” she shouted, storming forward. He snapped his head up and… smiled? Issandi was about to take his head from his shoulders when Haskill appeared, staying her hand. 

“So, you’ve managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity. Well, you’ll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You’ll notice there are two doors. One leads to Mania. The other to Dementia. Enter through either one. The lands are quite distinct, but both are Sheogorath’s domain. You’ll want to seek out Lord Sheogorath. I believe He has plans for you. Try not to disappoint Him.” He turned away from Gellius, speaking quietly to Issandi. “Our Lord wishes for you to lead him to New Sheoth. I know you won’t disappoint him.” She hissed at him, but new she had to oblige. Sheogorath was the only man here that respected her, just as her family and theirs were the only ones to respect her in Mundus. 

“Issandi!” Gellius called, running over to her. “I’ve found you.” 

“Yes, yes, how nice. Now what the fetch are you doing here?” 

“I came to find you, of course. I couldn’t have you just run out on me.” 

“Great, just fetching great! First, you assault me, now you come and are Sheogorath’s Champion? What do I have to do to get rid of you?” He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it promptly. “Just come with me, you s’wit, I’m supposed to take you to Lord Sheogorath.” 

 

*** 

 

Issandi entered the Palace in front of Gellius, bowing in front of Sheogorath before taking her place beside him. 

“A new arrival! Shame about my Gatekeeper. I’m so happy, I could just tear out your intestine and strangle you with them.” Issandi smirked when she saw Gellius flinch. “I suppose an introduction is in order. I’m Sheogorath, Prince of Madness. And other things. I’m not talking about them. You’ve probably figured that out by now. Let’s hope so. Or we’re in real trouble…. And out come the intestines.” Even Sheogorath was having fun with his new mortal. “And I skip rope with them! But, perhaps now’s not the time. You’ve made it this far. Farther than anyone else, except for my little mouse here. Well done! Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse.” The Imperial’s face was dead pale as he took the small amulet in his hands. It took all of Issandi’s willpower not to laugh. 

“W-What is it you want?” he stammered. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, or someone like you, or someone other than you, for some time. I need a champion, and you’ve got the job. Time to save the Realm! Rescue the damsel! Slay the beast! Or die trying. Your help is required. A change is coming. Everything changes. Even Daedric Princes. Especially Daedric Princes.” 

Inwardly, Gellius was hoping the damsel was Issandi. But slay the beast? He would not slay anything! He’d get someone else to do that for him, just as he did with the Gatekeeper. People in this Realm were so easily persuaded. As for dying, he didn’t plan on it. “Change?” 

“Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change and permanency. I’m no different, except in the ways that I am. A Greymarch is coming. And you’re going to stop it.” 

Issandi leaned down to speak into her Lord’s ear. “A Greymarch?” 

“The details aren’t important. At least, not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline. We’ll get back to that later.” 

Gelliius coughed loudly, interrupting their conversation. He didn’t like that his would-be wife was speaking privately to another man. “What do we do now?” 

“Now? You run an errand for me. An important one. Of course, anything I tell you to do is important. My Realm, My rules. You’re going to Xedilian, one of my favorite spots in the Isles. It’s a little place I use to take care of unwanted visitors. And some are more unwanted than others.” 

“Xedilian? Why must I go to this… Xedilian?” 

“The Gatekeeper takes care of most unwanted visitors, but he’s dead. We’ll have to remedy that soon, as well… Anyway… There are those things that have their ways into my Realm, and they’re on the move. We don’t want them here. Trust me. So, you’re going to get Xedilian up and running. Here’s a little book to tell you how, and the Attenuator of Judgment. You’ll need that, too. Of course, you can always get more details from Haskill. He’s a detail oriented type of person. A big help. And a snappy dresser. Now, get going! Before I change my mind. Or my mind changes me.” Issandi didn’t like his last comment, frowning. “And don’t forget to get the assistance of My little mouse, here. She’s a great help with the killing and chopping. Aren’t you?” 

“Yes, my Lord.” Inwardly she wanted to hit him, and she never wanted to hit Sheogorath. Why did he insist on sending her with this fetcher? She turned her back to Gellius, kneeling beside Sheogorath. ”My Lord, please, tell me what the Greymarch is. Should I be worried?” 

“Really, no need to trouble yourself with the details of that now. It would just cloud your mind, My little mouse.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“Now, go! Xedilian needs you!” 

“Come with me, Issandi.” Gellius held out his arm, intending to take hers, but she just shoved on past him. Shaking his head, he followed. 

They reached Xedilian by noon that day, when the sun was high above the Realm. “Keep your damn head down, and you might get out of this place alive,” she scolded him, taking her bow from her shoulder. There was a Grummite blocking their path into the ruin, but he was quickly dealt with. 

They were immediately assaulted by three Grummites upon entering the fort, but they were quickly cast down by Issandi’s dark blade. Gellius, using her prowess to his advantage, stood back and watched as she hacked and slashed until they were nothing but torn corpses. The fort was filled with rubble and odd statues the Grummites had constructed, but every few rooms they came to an odd structure that seemed out of place. Always near such a structure was a Grummite carrying a staff with a crystal shard attached to the end. Issandi took her time with them, avoiding casts of lighting, or frost, occasionally fire, until she was able to get close enough to rip or slash the staff from the creature’s hands. 

“Take this, put it on the pedestal,” she ordered him, snapping the staff in half and handing him the crystal shard. “Well?” Gellius took the purple object from her, doing as he was instructed. It lit up, floating just above the stone dais. 

“I didn’t do anything!” he shouted when it began glowing. 

“Yes, you did. Now shut up and let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

They found two more such structures, and with them two more Grummites with staves. All of the creatures were dismantled quickly, but not very cleanly. Even though Gellius did not have a hand in their slaughter, he was still covered with their blood. “Would you be more careful? These are the only clothes I have with me!” 

“Just shut up and move,” Issandi scowled, throwing him the head of a Grummite. Gellius shrieked, dropping skill quickly, and followed. The halls came to an end at a final crystalline structure. It stood as tall as the ceiling, with two cylindrical sort of structures beside it. “Give me the attenuator.” 

“The what?” 

Issandi groaned. “The Attenuator of Judgment. The stick thing Sheogorath gave you.” 

“Oh, that.” He reached into his pack, pulling out a tuning fork sort of object. Issandi struck it against the crystal, smiling as it let out an echoing chime. A grate to their right opened, revealing a glowing teleporter pad. Gellius stood still, watching Issandi. She motioned for the pad, but he didn’t move. Groaning, she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him. The Imperial vanished in a stream of yellow light, to an unknown location. She followed, finding herself standing above him. 

“Finally, Lord Sheogorath has sent someone to assist me!” a Dunmer voice hailed them as she grabbed Gellius’ arm to haul him to his feet. “But where are my manners? Ahem… must get into my professional tone… ahem…” He coughed several times, clearing his throat. “Welcome to Xedilian. I’m the dungeon caretaker, KiIliban Nyrandil.” 

Issandi had never been to Xedilian, nor had she met this Dunmer, and that intrigued her. There were few in the Shivering Isles, especially on the Dementia half, that she did not know.”Tell me about this place?” 

“A wonder of engineering, is it not? Xedilian is the ultimate test of mettle for the foolhardy adventurer that dares trespass into the Shivering Isles. What they don’t know is that they’re being drawn to their doom, courtesy of the Resonator of Judgment.” 

Gellius was about to interrupt, but Issandi elbowed him, hard, and spoke up herself. “Interesting. Tell me a bit more, would you?” 

“Ever since that wretched Gatekeeper was made, Xedilian became redundant. It fell into disrepair and was eventually all but forgotten. After only a few years passed, the Grummites began moving in. Ghastly things! They mistook the Focus Crystals for some sort of religious symbols, and removed them from their rightful places. This rendered the Resonator inert and Xedilian completely useless. Luckily, you came along and placed Xedilian back into operation.” 

“How do we get out of here?” Gellius added in before Issandi could do anything about it. 

“Yes, yes, I tend to rable, you’ll have to forgive me. If you have the Attenuator, then Sheogorath must have sent you. Xedilian would normally have sent you back to the entrance when you stepped on the pad in the Resonator Chamber. Since you’re up here, I can only surmise that adventurers are already entering the dungeon as we speak.” 

“Great, we’re supposed to deal with them?” The young Count-to-be groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“What should we do?” Issandi asked herself, glaring at him. 

“The only thing we can do is let the adventurers complete a cycle through here. I’ll be glad to help. I assume Sheogorath gave you the Manual of Xedilian. You can consult it for more information, or I can provide instructions.” 

“Let’s just go,” Gellius complained. Issandi grabbed his collar, dragging him to the balcony where they overlooked the first room they had entered. It was fairly cleaned up now, with a small Gnarl tree in the center. 

“… now keep your weapons ready and watch your backs,” the voice of an Orc drifted to them. “Do what I say, and we might just get outta’ here alive.” There were three of them, an Orc, an Altmer, and a Dunmer, walking into the room. “What in Oblivion is that thing?” the Orc laughed when he saw the Gnarl. 

“THIS is one of the ‘horrid guardians’ of which the stories spoke?” the Altmer spoke up in defiance, poking it with one of his arrows. 

“What a joke! Let’s be rid of this thing and be on our way.” Two panels on either side of Issandi and Gellius lit up, one mangled with blue teeth, the other grinning with red. Gellius moved to press the one closest to him, the red one, but Issandi grabbed his neck and pushed the blue one. 

“Wait just a moment… What’s that sound.” Several more Gnarl trees entered the room, seeming to materialize. 

“Prepare yourselves for battle!” There upwards of a dozen, attacking the three adventurers. The Orc’s blade set several of them on fire, burning them to ashes quickly, while the Dunmer cast spell upon spell at them. At the same time, the Altmer attempted to hold his own, but was quickly felled and torn apart by a small group. Seeing their companion fall, the Orc and Dunmer massacred the rest of the creatures. “Damn it! Lewin deserved better than this and I’m responsible. Someone will pay dearly, I assure you.” Gellius flinched, hiding behind Issandi. 

“They can’t see or hear you, s’wit. You’re fine.” 

“There’s nothing to be done here. We must press on.” The Dunmer placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder, leading him out of the room. 

“Unleashed the swarm did we? Nothing like a little bloodlust to start the encounter off right.” Kiliban grinned as the two approached, taking another teleporter pad to the next room. It was again a room they had passed through, one of a blue tint with a massive locked cage full of treasures. It hadn’t been there when they passed, but Gellius had found and pocketed a topaz stone. 

“Look!” the Orc laughed when seeing the bountiful treasure. “I told you! Treasure! Let’s have at it, Syndelius.” They ran up to the gate, trying to pry it open, but found it would not budge. “Blast! The cage is locked!” 

“Grommok, be careful! This looks too good to be true.” 

Again, two panels activated on the wall. Gellius did not move as Issandi pressed the blue plate again. 

“Ha! Let’s see them stop me after I rip this gate from its hinges!” 

“Grommok! No!” A massive explosion enveloped the two of them, sending their bodies flying. They landed away from the raised platform that housed the treasure, the Dunmer Syndelius cracking his head on a pile of rubble. The Orc Grommok pushed himself slowly to his feet, walking over to his companion’s body, the only thing left of his robes being charred remains. 

“Sorry Syndelius. I don’t know who built this nightmare, but if I get my hands on them…” His voice trailed off as he ran from the room. 

“Ah, the classic fire trap. Always a favorite, especially in the colder months.” Kiliban smiled, motioning towards the next glowing pad. The last room Issandi did not recognize, and Gellius almost threw up over the railing when he saw the corpses hanging from the walls and ceiling. The Orc walked in slowly, his arms outstretched as he tried to keep himself from falling. “Steady, Grommok…. Steady. You’ve been through worse before. What more could this place possibly throw at you?” Issandi hit the last slate, watching as some of the corpses on the floor began raising, some of them pulling from the wall to attack the Orc. “What? The very dead rise in this accursed place? Very well, you’ll not slay me without a fight! Have at you!” The zombies made quick work of the severely exhausted Orc. One of them managed to grab hold of his neck and rip out his throat. Issandi had to turn her head as the others moved in, finishing off the rest of the Orc’s flesh.

“You’ve made short work of the intruders,” Kiliban praised them as he approached. “Sheogorath should be proud to have such an efficient apprentice, and Grakedrig. Now, if you’ll step on the last teleporter pad, I will meet you two in the reception chamber so we can recover your earnings. Not to worry, we’ll have your spoils to you in no time at all.” He smiled, leading them onto the yellow pad to the final room. They had passed the room in the very beginning, but it had been blocked by a gate. Kiliban turned to Gellius, nodding to him in respect. Issandi snorted, she didn’t think he deserved it. “As is the tradition, you are to be awarded a focus crystal as a token of your fine work. I’ll have it sent to the palace and placed in the main hall, if you wish to take a look at it.” 

“You said earnings…?” Gellius asked eagerly. 

“Oh, yes…. Of course. It seems a most unusual weapon was recovered from the Orc warrior, Grommok. Never seen anything like it, but perhaps his journal can give you some useful information. Beyond that, take whatever else you need from the recovery chest… you’ve earned it! You’re free to go at any time of course, just up the hallway. Good luck to you!” The Imperial looked hungrily at the blade Kiliban had given him. It was oddly shaped, two separate blades reaching up, teeth separating them in the center. On the hilt was a large gem that glittered gold. Gellius couldn’t tell, but Issandi could see that it was enchanted, but thirsted for blood. It was a blade like a vampire, it needed blood to satiate it. She paged through the Orc’s journal, confirming her suspicions. Such a thing could only be the work of the Isles, if not Sheogorath himself. Issandi pulled Gellius away from the room, dragging him back down the halls towards the entrance. She jumped to attention when suddenly spires of crystal rose from the ground, shattering stone and rubble. 

“Gellius, get back in there!” she shouted, seeing figures that gleamed in the odd lighting coming from the entrance. Issandi rushed forward, swinging her small axe in a wide arc to meet the crystalline shoulder plate of the first attacker. The blade crushed under the force, sending shattered pieces of mineral everywhere. Several pieces embedded in her skin at the wrist, causing her to stumble back in pain. One of the figures advanced on her, speechless. There were no signs of face plates, just one solid piece of crystal that worked as an armor. Before any more damage was done, she used one of the spells her father taught her and burned the creature alive in its armor. Pushing herself from the ground, Issandi raced back up the steps to higher ground. The other two creatures advanced on her, their armor groaning as they followed her. She launched another fire spell at them, but missed as one took a wide right, coming around one of the crystalline pillars towards her. Issandi threw up her shield just blocking a sword, that seemed attached to the body of the creature, as it came down. 

Gellius came charging forward, his new sword in the air, shouting words that were lost as Issandi shoved him back to the ground. “What are you doing? Get back in there!” Issandi shouted, driving her blade between a small opening in the armor where pale flesh could be seen. The creature dropped instantly, landing on top of Gellius and bringing him to the floor. There was no blood. Issandi leaned down to help the fool to his feet, but the last creature’s blade caught her across the arm, tearing the soft leather skin of her armor. She hollered out, grabbing hold of her wound. Under her fingers, it began to crystallize and harden. Gellius cried out, pushing the crystalline carcass off him and thrust his blade up into the center chest piece. Unlike Issandi’s axe, the blade did not shatter upon impact but instead drove right through the armor into the being. From the wound, a small flame spread across the being until it was nothing but a smoldering corpse. 

“I guess I should thank you,” Issandi muttered as she stood. 

“I had to protect my future wife,” he replied proudly. 

“I am NOT your future wife.” She glared at him, wanting to take his pathetic head and put it on a pike. 

“That was quite a battle. I hope you are uninjured.” Kiliban came running from the room, sincere worry on his face. 

“Nothing that will do more than ruin my day. What kind of beings were thoe?” 

“You’ve not heard the legends? How could that be? You are a Grakedrig, shouldn’t you know?” Issandi shook her head. “Those ‘beings’ as you call them aren’t beings at all. They’re the soulless abominations known as the Knights of Order. Their attraction to the Resonator isn’t surprising, it was built from one of the obelisks that dot the Isles they seem to have an affinity for. You must proceed to Sheogorath at once and tell him the Knights have returned! Quickly now…. Go!” She nodded, grabbing the hem of Gellius’ shirt and hauled him out of the fort. He was still beaming from killing the Knight. 

“Well now, what news do you have to report?” Sheogorath asked as the two of them walked up to the throne. Issandi bowed, as she always did, but Gellius stood defiantly. He bowed to no man. 

“There were Knights that attacked us, my Lord.” 

“So soon? Not a surprise, I suppose. We’ll get to that later. No need to burden your little brain with it now. And Xedilian? Since you’re standing here, I assume you’ve succeeded. Or you’re terribly confused. Or really lacking in good judgement.” He glared at Gellius with his last few words. 

“Xedilian is in operation once again.” 

“Wonderful! Time for a celebration…. Cheese for everyone! Wait, scratch that. Cheese for no one. That can be just as much of a celebration, if you don’t like cheese. True? You’ll get your cheese later, little Mouse. But you,” he looked back at Gellius. “You’ve run a maze like a good little rat, but no cheese for you yet. Well, maybe a little. I’ve granted you a new spell – the ability to summon Haskill, My Chamberlain, to aid you in your travels. He knows a lot. More than he knows. In fact, give it a try. Summon our friend to you now. I’ll wait…” Haskill rolled his eyes, standing at attention as he always did. The young Imperial smiled, looking down at his hands as he felt the capability wash through him. Clutching his hand and willing the power to be there, Haskill vanished then rematerialized beside him, a deep frown etched into his face. 

“How wonderful for me,” he groaned. It was clear Gellius was going to enjoy his new ability. “When summoned, I can offer advice on your current endeavor. I imagine it’s up to you what to do with my wisdom. Do try to use your power sparingly. I have duties to which I must attend. Rather more important that shepherding you around, I’m sure.” 

Sheogorath laughed aloud, slapping his thigh. “Isn’t that a hoot? I love it myself. Best part of being a Daedric Prince, really. Go ahead, try it again. He loves it!” 

He grinned, using his power again and laughing when Haskill once again appeared before him. “Ah, summoned again. My Lord does so enjoy that, as is His prerogative. I’ll assume you’re done for now.” 

“Good, good! You’ll need all the help you can get if you’re going to defeat Jyggalag and stop the Greymarch. Oh, and don’t expect to summon dear Haskill anywhere but in the Realm. He dislikes leaving My presence. I get that sometimes.” Issandi smiled inwardly to herself. 

“Who is Jyggalag?” 

“He’s the Daedric Prince of Order. Or biscuits… No, Order. And not in a good way. Bleak. Colorless. Dead. Boring, boring, boring. And not a fan of My work, I can tell you. Hates it. Hates Me. A bit single minded, if you take my meaning. You’ve seen his Knights. Not the warm and cuddly sort. Not a bit of original thought in their lifeless husks. So, you’re going to help Me stop him.” He pointed at Gellius, catching the man off guard. 

“Me? How am I supposed to stop him?” 

“Again with the niggling little details. Hold your tongue. Or I will. We’ll get to that, all in due time. For now, you’ve got other work to do.” 

Issandi knelt beside the Mad God, looking down at the ground. “Please, my Lord, tell me who, or what, is the Greymarch?” 

“An event. A movement. A apocalypse of sorts. Happens every era, at the end of every era. Which is to say, now. The Greymarch comes, and Jyggalag walks. Or runs. Never skips, sidles, or struts. Mostly, he just destroys everything around him.” 

“What are you going to ask me to do now?” Gellius inquired, crossing his arms. 

“Ask? Ask?” Issandi smiled as he flinched from the power of Sheogorath’s voice. “I don’t ask. I tell. This is My Realm, remember? My creation, My place, My rules. Look at you. No concept of what you’ve stumbled into. No sense of place. You don’t even really know where you are, do you? I suppose few really do, but that’s beside the point. We’re going to give you a taste of where you have found yourself. You’re going to learn.” 

“Learn… what?” He was almost afraid to ask. 

“Two halves, two rulers, two places. Do what they will, so you know what they’re about. The Duke of Mania, the Duchess of Dementia. Seek them out, and let them show you what New Sheoth is. You might be surprised. Once you understand what My Realm is, you might understand why it’s important to keep it intact. And maybe you’ll make some friends along the way. That’s always nice!” He shooed Gellius away, not telling or asking Issandi to accompany him. That was a nice change of pace. She remained at his side as they watched him leave as Sheogorath turned to her. “You better help the fool. He’s just a mortal. He’ll get himself killed by Syl soon enough.” Sighing loudly, she nodded. 

“I was wondering, my Lord, if you would answer a few questions first.” 

“Of course, my sweet little mouse! What do you need?” 

“My Lord, I beg of you, what is the Greymarch? You haven’t told me anything, and I worry.” 

“It’s Jyggalag’s time, and not a good time at all.” He looked at her, his brows furrowed. “You’re going to help him help Me stop it. First he has to not die.” 

“And Jyggalag is who? You said he’s the Prince of Order, but that was all.” 

“He’s just another Daedric Prince. Not a nice one. I don’t think ANY of the other Princes like him, actually. I mean, Malacath is more popular at parties. And Malacath is NOT popular at parties. Now, off with you. Go make sure my Champion doesn’t get himself killed.” She nodded, going through the door to the House of Dementia where she expected to find him. 

“I am the Grand Inquisitor!” she heard him yell from a nearby room. 

Heridir didn’t sound amused. Then again, he never did. “Are you? Hmm. I’d expected an entrance with a bit more flair. Ah, well. Perhaps you’ll grow into the role. One can hope, eh? Now, we’ve much to do. Lady Syl is not a patient woman, as I’m sure you’ve seen. Shall we begin?” 

“Let’s just get going,” Issandi interrupted. 

“You’re helping me again?” Gellius perked up, seeing her coming down the hall. 

Issandi rolled her eyes, motioning for the two men to follow. They first found Kithlan, the Redguard who worked as Syl’s Steward. “Unless you have a reason to be here, your presence is unwelcome.” He frowned deeply at them, but did not move to show them out. 

“We’re here to ask you about a conspiracy,” Gellius spoke up. 

“No conspiracies here. Go pester someone else.” Before the ‘Grand Inquisitor’ could move to speak, Issandi hit Kithlan across the face with her armor clad fist. It tore skin and flesh, sending the Redguard reeling. “I swear, I know nothing about a conspiracy!” He shouted, holding a hand to his heavily bleeding cheek. 

“Liar! Heridir, torture him!” Gellius jumped in, pointing wildly at Kithlan. 

“Please, no!“ His cries turned to screams as Heridir cast a sort of shock spell over him, sending him to his knees. “Alright, alright…” he gasped, getting back into his chair. “Please, just stop. I don’t know anything specific, but Anya has been looking scared lately. More scared than usual. I think something’s going on with her. Now please, leave me alone!” He spoke quietly, pointing to the Breton on the other side of the room. She was continually checking over her shoulder. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Issandi sneered to Gellius as they walked over. 

He was about to speak up, but Anya saw them coming. “I’m Anya Herrick. I serve Lady Syl, and she allows me to remain protected within the House of Dementia. I’m so grateful to her.” 

“We need to ask you about a conspiracy in the House of Dementia.” 

“What? N…No. I don’t know anything. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” 

Gellius pushed Heridir forward, crying, “Liar!” 

“Oh, please! No! I beg of you!” The shockwave went through her, dropping her to her knees. “Please, I am not involved… I didn’t do anything! They wanted me to get them close to Syl, but I couldn’t abide them!” 

“Someone approached you? Who? Tell me at once!” Gellius took to his role well. Too well, in Issandi’s opinion. He liked power, and all this Champion and Grand Inquisitor nonsense was getting to his head. She’d have to drill it out of him later. 

“It was Ma’zaddha. He said he was working on behalf of someone else. He told me I needed to help him, or there would be repercussions. I didn’t know what to do. Turning on Syl could cost me my life, but if I don’t help, what will Ma’zaddha do to me? You must do something!” Gellius stormed off with Heridir, making Issandi roll her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Anya,” she told her. “We’ll deal with this.” 

“Thank you, Grakedrig!” 

They traveled around Crucible searching for the Khajiit, only to find him in the Sacellum. They could not interrogate him there, as it was neutral ground. They’d have to find a way to get him out of there. ”It’s gone… all of it, gone!” he told them when they came up. “Have you seen any of it? Have you seen any of it? Any of my things? The others…. They think I’m stealing, but I just want my things back.” 

“I think I know where they are, would you follow me?” Issandi lied. 

“Of course, Grakedrig!” Ma’zaddha stood quickly, running his tail through his hands as they left. Once outside of the Sacellum, issandi grabbed his shoulders and threw him against the wall. 

“Tell me what you know of the conspiracy against Lady Syl.” 

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He appeared shocked, not because of the news, but the fact that they found him. 

“Liar! Heridir, torture him!” 

Ma’zaddha didn’t cry or beg as the shockwave went through him, but instead laughed at them. “You may continue to do your worst, Inquisitor, but unless you have some evidence of this preposterous conspiracy, you’ll get nothing from me.” 

Gellius spend most of the day torturing the citizens of Crucible trying to find proof against Ma’zaddha, but had no such luck. Whenever she could, Issandi kept him from torturing someone, but usually he tortured them anyway. He seemed to be having fun with it. Sick of his attitude, Issandi grabbed his collar and dragged him into Sickly Bernice’s porterhouse and threw him down into a chair before going to order a few things to eat. Gellius, however, saw this as a chance to interrogate someone eles. 

“What do you know about the conspiracy?” he asked. Issandi thought he finally decided to play nice, but stood close by to make sure. 

“I don’t know anything about a conspiracy!” 

“Don’t lie to me! Heridir, torture her!” Issandi jumped forward in an attempt to stop the torture specialist, but was too slow. Sickly Bernice fell to the ground, struggling to get up. 

“You bastard!” Issandi yelled at him, helping her up. 

“Torturing a sickly old woman?” she sniffled, using the young Imperial woman as a support. “Are you trying to kill me? I don’t know anything, not for certain. I har that Ma’zaddha has been seen talking to Syl’s Guard Captian, Nelrene, but I haven’t seen them. Not wise for me to be outside late at night, too easy to catch another cold. But if the rumors are true, you should keep an eye out for them. And leave me alone! I’ve got enough wrong with me already. Don’t need new wounds to add to my troubles.” 

“Are you happy now?” she growled at Gellius, tending to Sickly Bernice. “I do apologize. I hope that this hasn’t caused you too much trouble.” 

“Just go! Leave me to die here in peace!” Issandi hit the back of Gellius’ head, pushing him out the door. She didn’t even bother to let him eat. She made him wait on a nearby chair, away from anyone that he could interrogate, and went searching on her own. One such person, who seemed relieved that Gellius was not around, gladly told her that they met by the sewer passage. Right where she left the damned Count-to-be. Returning quickly, she shoved him down to his knees to hide him before anyone showed up. Issandi kept her eyes open, watching for any movement. Most couldn’t tell the difference between all the different Mezkan, but Issandi could. When she saw Nelrene coming, she used a chameleon spell to hide the three of them, creeping closer to where she met up with Ma’zaddha. 

“Have you made any progress?” the Guard Captain asked the Khajiit when she approached. “Will Anya assist us?” 

“No, that blasted Inquisitor got to her. We’ll need to find someone else.” Ma’zaddha kept looking over his shoulder, like he knew they were watching. 

“See that you do so immediately. This is the one task which you were assigned. If you cannot complete it, you will be removed. Are we clear?” 

“I will, I will! I want to see Syl dead just as much as you do. She cannot be allowed to survive after what she’s done. It’s despicable.” 

“Good.I shall expect a progress report soon. And keep your head down, the Inquisitor must not become involved.” Nelrene left quickly, winding her way through the alleys back to the main street. Ma’zaddha let out a loud exhale of breath, sitting down on a nearby crate. 

“You sure you don’t want to talk about that conspiracy?” Issandi asked, jumping down from above. 

The Khajiit flinched. “I told you, I don’t know anything. You can’t prove a thing!” 

“Don’t think us fools, Khajiit,” Gellius interrupted. “We saw you talking with that Dark Seducer.” 

“Nelrene,” Issandi groaned. 

“Right, Nelrene.” He hated that she had corrected him, but Gellius knew he would have to live with it. For now. She may be Sheogorath’s right hand and a Mezkan Grakedrig, but he was the chosen one! The Champion! She would bow to him soon enough. 

Ma’zaddha’s ears perked up, his jaw hanging open. “What? I… I… It’s for the good of Crucible! You must see that! Please, spare me! I’ll do anything!” 

“Why are you attempting to kill the Lady Syl?” Issandi asked politely. 

“You don’t know, do you? She’s kept it a secret even from you? She and Thadon… they’ve been meeting in secret. They’ve been doing things together. Consorting. You understand me? It cannot be permitted! She must be stopped!” Issandi shuddered. She knew Thadon, and found the poor man… disgusting. He was addicted to drugs, but no one seemed to care, and neither did he. 

“Who else is involved with this?” 

“I don’t know, besides Nelrene. She’s taking orders from someone, but won’t tell me who. If you find out, will you promise to spare me?” 

“I would make no such promise with the likes of you,” Gellius interrupted again, pushing In front of Issandi. She grabbed the neck of his shirt, pulling him back into line. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll get some names, and then you’ll see. It will be worth it, I promise you! Meet me in my house tomorrow at midnight. I’ll have information for you. Just spare me.” Ma’zaddha ran off in another direction, leaving the three of them alone. Issandi grabbed Gellius and slammed his back into the wall, glaring at him. 

“You may be the Grand Inquisitor, the damned Champion, but I know how things work around here,” she growled at him. “I will lead, you will follow. Next time you undermine my authority, I will hurt you.” Gellius reached forward, pulling her face to his and kissed her deeply. Disgusted, Issandi brought her knee up to his gut, wishing she would have hit him lower. “Don’t do that again.” She dropped him to the ground, walking away. “Meet me here tomorrow at midnight, and we’ll go find Ma’zaddah. Don’t get in trouble, and don’t get yourself killed.” 

Issandi spent the following day by Sheogorath’s side, as she always did. It was uneventful, occasionally he would call for his dancer, they feasted as they did every night, and there were few visitors. Gellius was no where to be seen, which pleased her greatly. Issandi accompanied the Mad God down under the Fountainhead, during his sporadic trips down there so he could meditate. The tame Gnarls didn’t even seem to notice them as they walked down through the roots of the Tree of Madness. It was very peaceful, the only sounds being the Gnarls working and the waters flowing to and from the two pools of Madness. He always seemed so happy when down there, often having a exaggerated skip in his step. Sheogorath’s free attitude and ability to not care always raised her spirits. Or perhaps it was just the Fountainhead influencing her, as it seemed to influence her Lord. Whatever the case, Issandi couldn’t help but smile as she followed him down through the roots. 

He remained completely silent as he ascended the steps to a small platform above the Pool of Mania. Sheogorath’s cane balanced lightly on his hand when he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling with the same amount of effort. In this state, he was completely oblivious to the world around him, and Issandi was free to wander as she pleased, within certain bounds. Usually, however, she simply stayed at the base of the stairs, dipping her bare feet in the Pool of Madness. Today however, he acted differently. Only a few moments after he closed his eyes, Sheogorath let out a shout of surprise, his cane clattering to the stone. Issandi jumped to her feet, blade instantly drawn, ready for anything. But there was nothing in the area. “My Lord! What is it?” 

“My mouse?” he shook his head, standing up.”The something is nothing. Nothing you should worry about yet. Let us go.” Issandi nodded, pulling her boots back on. Sheogorath leaned more on his cane that she had ever seen him do before, which worried her. But he seemed to pay no mind to it. She watched him carefully as they made their way back through the Gnarls and roots back to the Throne room, where Haskill was always waiting. Something was wrong with Sheogorath, but Issandi dared not ask. It had to be something about the Greymarch. It seemed the farther along it progressed, the worse his condition became.


	5. Chapter 5

“My Lord, your Champion was here just moments ago,” Haskill told him, the same bored tone in his voice. “He was looking for the Grakedrig.” 

“A champion with an attachment to My mouse? A mouse attached to My Champion? How interesting!” 

“I am NOT attached to that imbecile!” she hissed. 

Sheogorath just laughed. “Of course not! You are here, and he is not. You can’t be connected, unless you are?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Good, good! Now, go find My Champion. Find what he wanted.” Issandi bowed her head, backing away towards the door. Gellius was just outside, pacing back and forth across the top tier of the courtyard. 

“That mortal is going to burn a hole through his shoes if he doesn’t stop pacing like that,” the Mazken guard mentioned. The Imperial looked up, his expression grim. 

“What is it?” 

“Ma’zaddha’s dead!” 

Issandi hooked her elbow around his neck, pressing the point of her blade against his spine. “What did you do?” 

Gellius gagged, grabbing at her arm so he could breathe. She loosened her grip, only enough to allow some air flow. “I didn’t do anything!” he choked out. “I knocked on the door to see if he was home, it opened, but he was dead on the floor! I swear!” 

She released him, propelling him several feet forward. “Take me there.” What Gellius told her was true, Ma’zaddha was on the floor in the center of his house, covered in his own blood. Issandi cursed outloud, taking her hand to close the Khajiit’s lifeless eyes. He saw who was coming for him, no doubt, and the look of shock on his face gave Issandi the assumption that it was someone he had trusted. She searched his corpse, reluctantly, finding two keys with blood on them. One was clearly to his house, but the other seemed to belong to a sort of container. With Gellius’ help, they searched the house quickly and found that only one container was locked. The key fit, opening a cupboard that contained a crinkled note and a Mazken ceremonial blade. “I haven’t got much time,” Issandi read so the “Champion” could hear. “She’s coming for me.” 

“Nelrene asked me to hold onto this sword. Said I should give it to Anya to do the deed, but Anya wouldn’t. Now, maybe it can find a better use as evidence. Syl will recognize it. 

“Muurine is in charge. She’s the one telling Nelrene what to do. If I’m not around, I hope this is enough evidence to bring her in. 

“I hope I am alive to see it.” 

Issandi stormed out of the house, the ceremonial blade in her hands, Gellius following close behind. Nelrene was in the central chambers to the House of Dementia, like she always was. “Tell me what you know about the conspiracy before I gut you alive!” she shouted, slamming the Mazken into the wall. 

“You have no proof! You cannot hold me accountable for anything!” 

“Don’t you recognize your own blade?” she sneered, placing the sharp edge against Nelrene’s windpipe. 

“I’m not even the one you want. Muurine is behind it. You’ll need solid proof to pin it on her.” Issandi backed away, dropping the blade and spitting on it. She led Gellius and Heridir back down to Crucible and into the old Altmer’s house, kicking the door in. 

“Who are you, and why are you in my home?” 

“Still your tongue, conspirator, before I cut it out of your mouth!” Gellius shuddered, hiding behind the grinning Heridir.

“I see you’ve done quite a bit of work to track me down. Yes, I orchestrated it, Syl deserves to die a painful death for turning on all of us, and consorting with our enemies. Go ahead, do what you will. Nothing matters now.” Not even answering Muurine’s confession, Issandi shoved Gellius out the door and dragged him back up to the palace. 

“What news do you have to report, Inquisitor? Have you found who is responsible?” Both Kithlan and Anya looked away from Syl as she spoke to Gellius. 

“It was an Altmer,” he answered, looking a bit anxious. The Duchess looked expectantly at him. 

“The Altmer Muurine, my Lady,” Issandi finished for him with a bow. 

“Is that so? I shall have her brought to the torture chamber at once. Meet me there shortly.” Syl beamed, standing from her throne and leading the others from the room. Kithlan and Anya sighed loudly, obviously relaxing. Only minutes later, a Mezkan walked in, pushing Muurine. She did not struggle, even when she was thrown in a cage, the door locked. “You’ve confessed to attempting to kill me, I understand. The punishment for this treachery is death, and is to be carried out immediately.” Syle pressed down on a panel, causing two streams of lighting to erupt from nearby Hunger statues, instantly killing the Altmer. All that was left of her was a smoldering carcass. The Duchess turned to Gellius, ignoring his alarmed expression. “You see now what happens when those who oppose me fail, which they always do. I am pleased with your work, Inquisitor. As a token of my appreciation, I shall spare your life, and make you a Courtier of Dementia.” Issandi elbowed him, and he bowed to her. Syl probably would have killed him otherwise. 

“I understand you’re going to be Count one day,” she hissed at Gellius when they made their way out of the House of Dementia, “but that doesn’t matter here. Bravil doesn’t even subsist in this pane of existence! Bow to the Dukes when they are finished speaking, address them as my Lord or Lady, and always, ALWAYS, show respect for Sheogorath.” There was a vicious gleam in her eye that actually scared him. “You hold no authority here, so stop acting like it! Now go, take the rest of the day off to calm down. Thadon will be waiting for you, but you can see him tomorrow. There will be no consequences. Explore Crucible, go see Bliss. Just don’t get in trouble.” Gellius stared after her as she stormed away. She dared treat him like an inferior? Still, what she said rang true. There were some here that deserved respect, but she did not fall into that category. She was muscle, a tool to be used by Sheogorath. He was the Champion! She’d be his to use by the end of this “Greymarch”. For now, he would play along. 

 

*** 

 

“Ahh, yes, THERE you are!” Thadon greeted them in a lazy tone. He didn’t seem quite awake. “You couldn’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for you. So little to do, and so much time. Hmm, could you, in fact, imagine just how long I’ve been waiting? I don’t think you could, but I might be wrong. I might not care. Which is it?” 

“You can’t have waited long at all,” Gellius put in before Issandi told him how to answer. 

“Haven't I? Hmm, perhaps not. It felt like rather a long time, but then long times get longer when you're standing around thinking about them. A curious thing, that. Long roads get longer too, if you're thinking about them, but what about long words? They don't change nearly as much. Long, short -- it all ends up the same. Dust and tears. Usually tears first, then the dust. Dust can't cry, you see. That would be... well, amusing. You know what's NOT amusing? I don't have my Chalice of Reversal. It makes me sad. When I get sad, I don't care to do much of anything. I certainly don't care to help people who show up on my doorstep wanting something. Are we getting the picture here?” 

“What about this Chalice?” Thadon turned from his painting, setting down his brushes and palette. 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of it?” 

Gellius shook his head, clearly confused by the Duke of Mania’s thought process. “No.” 

“You haven’t heard of it, yet you know its name? What a strange creature you are.” Issandi used all of her willpower to keep from laughing as Gellius’ head was clearly spinning. “One of my favorite toys. Does wonders for creativity. Well, not by itself, but it helps. Those Elytra, clever little bugs that they are. Is this making sense? Look, you eat the Felldew, then use the Chalice, and find the world a much brighter and happier place. Honest. But I don’t have it. So I can’t eat Felldw, because that would be bad. I mean, really bad. Damn her!” 

“Who her?” 

“We hold on to fleeting things even as we slip. I know, and yet I indulged myself anyway. I indulged her a fair bit, too. Hee hee! It was passion, it was… forbidden. Oh, the things that would be said if word got out. That made it all the more delicious. From Dementia’s own court, no less. Scandelous! Fatal, perhaps. But passion makes no accommodation for self-preservation.” 

“You mean Duchess Syl! Er, I mean… Lady Syl.” The Imperial shrunk a little in his shoes, half expecting Issandi to take his head off. 

“Well, aren’t you the clever one. Mind you don’t get too full of yourself. You might explode.” He probably would, was the thought that bounced around Issandi’s head. If only. 

“What happened between the two of you?” 

“Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that pleasure and pain locked away now, as if it never happened. Unfortunately, the Chalice is locked away as well. I have no wish to retrieve it myself, but fetching it might do you some good. My head is positively throbbing now… can you see it? I need to lie down. Find someone to tell you the rest of the story. Get the Chalice.” Thadon rubbed his eyes, reaching over and taking a full goblet of what looked like wine and drank it all in only a few swallows. Issandi looked around the different plants in the garden, searching for Thadon’s stewardess, of sorts, Wide-Eye. The Argonian was spinning around, humming to herself and dancing. Pulling Gellius’ arm, they made their way over to her. She stopped humming, but was still swaying side to side, dancing to music that only she could hear. 

“You’ve been speaking with Thadon. I can tell. He has a certain… effect on people. Did he mention me, perhaps? Or was there something else you wanted to discuss?” 

“Tell us about this Chalice of Reversal.” Gellius needed to have an air of authority around such lesser peoples. If not, they might not do as he asked. 

“I don’t ask too many questions of Thadon. It’s precious to him, and that’s all that matters. Its his own business. But, didn’t he mention where it is? Oh… I see. How brilliant of him. This is for you as much as it is for him. Oh, very good Thadon! Dunroot Burrow is your goal, my friend. And what a goal it is.” 

The Count-to-be was about to demand that she answer, but thought better of it when Issandi glared out of the corner of her eye at him. “Dunroot Burrow?” was all he asked. 

“Yes, yes. A most unique place. Of course, the Chalice would be there! Don’t you see? It’s the Elytra. They’re the reason. The Chalice, Felldew, elytra… it’s all connected. One without the others is no good, poison. Oh, a rough road awaits you. Some Elytra there are… different. You’ll need to get Felldew from them, and eat it. Can’t get in without it. But once you do… He wants you to learn for yourself. Learn, grow, experience. Its his way. I shouldn’t say more. But the Burrow, it’s northwest of New Sheoth.” 

Issandi decided it was best for Gellius to take the lead on this trip, considering she hadn’t let him do much at all yet. At first she did all the dirty work because she didn’t need him getting himself killed, as that would anger Sheogorath. But as she looked at it now, if Gellius was supposed to be Sheogorath’s Champion, its best he started acting like it. He occasionally got lost, but Issandi knew the Shivering Isles almost as well as she knew Skingrad County. Giving him occasional directions, they made it to the cove within a day. 

The Elytra attacked once the two of them were in the vicinity. Wide-Eye said they needed Felldew, which they would need to extract from certain Elytra. “You kill them, I’ll gut them,” Issandi told him, climbing up onto the roots of the large Mushroom Tree of Mania. The Elytra came charging out of the burrow, instantly heading for Gellius. He used his blade, which Grommok had called Dawnfang, to fell them. His sword play was very poor, but effective. As they fell, Issandi would pull the corpses up onto the roots, and dig through until she found the Felldew that was contained in their gastric sacks. She stashed a pile of it in a crook of the tree, until she felt they had enough for the entire trip. She knew Felldew, and what it did to the body. “That’s enough!” she called down to Gellius, filling up the pack he had brought with the poison. She took a pinch, sprinkling the green powder down her throat. It was bitter at first, but soon started to burn as it settled into her system. After only a few moments, the sensation was gone. The feeling it left was that of rejuvenation, like she just woke up from the greatest night of her life. That’s how it always started, but once it wore off you’d be worse than you thought possible. 

Gellius reached his hand up, offering to help her down, but she just handed him the pack and jumped to the ground beside him. “Carry that, and eat this.” Issandi handed him a small pinch of Felldew, so they’d both be able to get into the Burrow. She laughed as he gagged, grabbing for his throat. His hand dropped, his entire body relaxing as the Felldew took effect. Gellius’ eyes widened, shaking his head. 

“What… is this?” 

“It’s Felldew, now come on. Don’t lose that pack, we need the contents.” He nodded, feeling better than he ever had before. Even Skooma didn’t work as well. The thin webbing over the entrance peeled back when they approached, allowing them entrance. A few Elytra attacked them on their entrance to the tunnels, but Issandi stood back as Gellius took care of them. It was pathetic, really. Even young Taras could beat him without using his magicka. But, Issandi didn’t mind sitting back and watching once and a while. About an hour in, she started feeling weak and light headed, the first signs of withdrawal. “Gellius,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “I need some more.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine until the next cavern,” he said, taking a dose when she wasn’t looking. Figuring he was right, and second guessing her own judgment, they continued on. Issandi knew that something was wrong when an Elytra attacked her, nearly tearing open her abdomen. Gellius took care of it quickly, but that wasn’t enough for her. She should have been able to take care of herself! 

“Gellius, please… I need more of the Felldew. Its… I’m… the withdrawal.” Throughout the trip, Sheogorath’s Champion had been taking the occasional fixing of the poison, keeping his strength and stamina up, all the while keeping Issandi from taking hers, weakening her body and mind. 

“Not until you make me yours,” he said, placing the bag up out of her reach. She may have been stronger, but he was the taller. Issandi glared at him, struggling to draw her sword, only to have it drop to the dirt. 

“Gellius… don’t… do this.” He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her against the wall and forcing his mouth on hers. She struggled, but the Felldew withdrawal was too much. She couldn’t fight back. He pulled down her armored skirt, resting her knee on his elbow as he forced her to submit to his will. Issandi screamed out, swatting at him as best she could, but the withdrawal symptoms made her attacks futile. She was his to command, and she hated it! Despite what he was doing to her, she did not scream, she did not shout, she knew it would be pointless. No one would hear her down here. “You… bastard…” she cursed when he had finished with her. Gellius let the bag of Felldew fall beside her, taking his own fix to continue on. He didn’t like having to force her like this, but it seemed the only way she would have him. 

“Let’s just-” his words were cut off by a choked gurgle as Issandi drove her blade up under his ribcage. No one took advantage of her like that and got away with it! No one! She twisted the blade before pulling it out, dropping him to the floor. He coughed, blood dripping down his chin as he tried to mumble a few words. In an instant, Haskill was there, a look of shock on his face that Issandi had never seen. 

“Grakedrig! What is the meaning of this? Attempting to kill our Lord’s champion.” 

“He raped me, Haskill!” she regretfully admitted, pulling her skirt up before the Chamberlain saw anything he shouldn’t. “The bastard deserves to die.” 

“Whether that be the truth or no, he is our Lord’s Champion, and he must live.” Haskill cast a spell over Gellius, the wound sealing, and the blood stopped flowing from his mouth. “Now, I hate for there to be a repeat of this situation. Sheogorath would be most displeased. I will, however, refrain from mentioning this to him. Good day to you both.” And he was gone. Gellius stood, gasping for breath. The air he had just inhaled was quickly cut off again when Issandi grabbed him by the throat with a crushing force. 

“Do that again, and I’ll make sure you die, and stay that way. I don’t care who you are, I WILL kill you.” He nodded, breathing in sharply when the air was finally allowed to flow back into his lungs. “Let’s just get this Chalice and go.” After that point, Issandi carried the bag of Felldew, making Gellius suffer the same side effects she did, but also gave him the fix he needed whenever it became too much. After a time, they entered a room that looked more like it belonged in a building than the tunnels beneath the Mushroom Tree. In the center atop a pedestal was the Chalice, but around it were three armed Felldew addicts. Still livid with Gellius for what he did, she pushed him forward to deal with the three of them, only contributing herself when it seemed they may actually kill him. Given time, the three of them were felled and they were able to retrieve their prize. 

 

*** 

 

“The triumphant champion returns!” Thadon exclaimed, his tone still bored, or lazy, or just tired, when Gellius approached with the Chalice. “So, do you feel any different? Now that you’ve been through this experience, I mean. You know what it’s like now…. Always wanting the next fix, hating it but craving it at the same time, and hating yourself for all of it.” In truth, he had known what it was like for a long time with his own Skooma addiction when he was still on Mundus. But he dared not say that and risk disrespecting a Duke and angering Issandi again. She was already to the point where she’d kill him, given the excuse. “Ah, well. All over now. The Chalice helps, doesn’t it? Indeed it does, and I could use some helping right now. I’ll just take that back from you. And as a token of my gratitude, I grand you the role of Courtier of Mania, with all of the entitlements. Which is to say, none.” Thadon turned back to his painting, ignoring the two as if they were no longer there. Definitely one of the more interesting citizens in New Sheoth, Gellius told himself. Issandi had left some time ago to be back with Sheogorath, and he found her standing by his side when he returned to the Throne room in the center of the palace. 

“Well, well,” the Mad God greeted, clapping his hands. He seemed happy, as he always did, but Gellius assumed that Issandi had not mentioned the incident in Dunroot Burrow. He hoped so, but the fury still burned in her eyes. “So you’ve experienced both shades of madness. Wonderful. You seemed fulfilled. Full of fill. Bursting at the seams. Seamless. Now to the meat of your endeavor. The crux of the situation. The reason for your being here, and the likely cause of your death.” 

“My death? What will cause my death? I don’t want to die!” Issandi rolled her eyes at the fool. He was willing to assault her, knowing she’d kill him when she got her strength back, but he didn’t want to die for a greater cause? He was just a spoiled, selfish fetcher. 

“You’ll be stopping the Greymarch. Altering the course of events, breaking the cycle. A fly in the ointment. A new cause for a different effort. We’re going to change things. No… things will be different this time around. You’ll be my champion. You’ll grow powerful. You’ll grow to be Me. Prince of Madness, a new Sheogorath.” Her eyes snapped to the Mad God, worry and confusion flooding them. ”Or you’ll die trying, and most likely My mouse with you. I love that about her.” If not for his previous comment about Gellius taking over as Sheogorath, she may have blushed. But as it was, she didn’t know what to think. A new Mad God? Could it happen? 

“Is it even possible for me to become a Daedric Prince?” 

Sheogorath laughed, as usual. “A fair question. You won’t, really. At least, I don’t think so. But you’ll have power. My power. Try not to lose it. It’s a pain to replace. But, for all intents and purposes, you’ll be Me. A Me to fight the Him. Since I won’t be around. It’s simple, really. If you don’t think about it.” Issandi turned away. Sheogorath was leaving, and Gellius was to take his place? Was he not going to take certain people, like her or even Haskill, with him? Her mind was racing, almost causing her to mist the next bit of their conversation. 

“Why choose me?” 

“Because you seem a nice enough sort. And you’ve made it this far. And if you don’t, I’ll swallow your soul and vomit it into the Everfilling Chamberpot of the Ageless. But mostly because I asked nicely.” 

“Forgive my interruption,” Issandi butt in before Gellius could speak. “But where will you be, my Lord.” 

He looked up at her, his face barely registering that he saw the mixed emotions in her eyes. “Not here. Didn’t I say that? I’m never here when Jyggalag walks. It’s one of the Rules. I’ve told you too much for now. Listen to me prattle on. We’ll talk more later, My mouse.” 

“Then what would you require of us next?” She didn’t even bother waiting for him to send her along with Gellius, as she knew it was going to happen. “Now… you’ve seen the Great Torch that burns brightly over New Sheoth? No? Because it doesn’t. It should. But it doesn’t.” Issandi had seen it at one point. A bright green and yellow flame, burning above the Sacellum. It was a wonderful sight, really. It had gone out some weeks ago, and that had been the start of their troubles. “You’ll fix that. You’ll go to Cylarne and bring back the Flame of Agnon to relight the torch. Oh… and take care with my minions at Cylarne. In their eternal quest to please me, they’re constantly fighting over Cylarne. It can be tiresome. But, really, it’s divine. Divinely tiresome. Well. That’s your problem now. Off with you. I don’t want to see you again until the Great Torch is lit. I wouldn’t want to have My mouse hurt you. Much. Oh, and don’t forget to make use of dear Haskill. Between you and Me, if he’s not summoned three or four times a day, I don’t think he feels appreciated.” Haskill rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. Sheogorath payed no mind, waving them off. 

“I can’t seem to understand what this Greymarch is,” Gellius said with a bow, adding, “my Lord.” 

“Aren’t you the curious one? You know what they say about curiosity though, don’t you? It killed the intrepid adventurer who really should just be doing exactly what I say at all times!” The Count-to-be flinched again, clearly not expecting Sheogorath’s tone to raise. “You’re going to stop the Greymarch by becoming Me. Or a version of Me. You’ll be powerful. Powerful enough to stop Jyggalag.” 

“And Jyggalag…?” 

“Is on his way in, so I’m on my way out. It’s terribly inconvenient, don’t you think? You’re going to stop him, though. And the first thing to do is to make my people feel safe. Otherwise, they tend to go work for him. It’s annoying, to tell the truth. A bit hurtful. But they do it every time. Join up with the enemy, and become Priests of Order. Now shoo! Or out come the intestines!” Gellius turned quickly, nearly sprinting out of the Throne room. “Think I was too harsh on the lad?” he asked just as Issandi started to follow. 

“Nonsense, my Lord. I’d tear out his intestines myself, if you’d let me.” 

“I just might!” His laugh echoed in her ears as she left, keeping her mood up as the two of them spent most of the next day traveling to Cylarne. The location was almost literally split in two. The Golden Staints, Aureals, controlled one half, the other by the Dark Seducers, Mazken. Out of habit, Issandi headed for her fellow Dark Seducers, but Gellius caught her shoulder and shook his head. “I’m the Champion, remember? We talk to the Golden Saints first.” 

“I’m the one who will gladly tear you to pieces, remember?” Still, she reluctantly headed over to the Aureal half of Cylarne. The Golden Saint Warden scowled at her, bearing her teeth, but did no such thing to Gellius. 

“Halt. Mortals are not permitted within the walls of holy Cylarne.” 

He puffed out his chest, straightened his back, and shot back a comment that would have gotten him killed if it wasn’t so funny. “Stand aside. Sheogorath sent me.” 

However, to the Golden Saint it wasn’t funny, it deserved respect. “My pardon, lord. Receive this key, and with it free passage throughout the Shrine of the Flame of Agnon.” 

“My companion and I are here to light the Flame of Agnon.” 

“Alas, we cannot light the Flame until we take control of the Altar of Despair from the infernal Mazken. The Aurmazl Kaneh would wish to speak to you at once. Proceed through this door to our main encampment at the Altar of Rapture.” The Saint’s look was grim, but she said no more. Gelius continued forward, approaching just in time to hear two of them arguing, a man and a woman. 

“My scouts reported no signs of the Mazken in the Underdeep,” the male spoke up. “It's our best chance to take them unawares.” 

“Too risky,” the female, who appeared to be a sort of commander, shot down. “It's likely to be a trap. They could cut us to pieces down there if they knew we were coming.” 

“With all due respect, Aurmazl, I ask that you reconsider. The main passage is strongly defended. Perhaps if you'd allow me to scout further...” 

“With all due respect, Aurmazl, I ask that you reconsider. The main passage is strongly defended. Perhaps if you'd allow me to scout further...” 

The sun was setting over the mountains, which frustrated Issandi. “Go make a camp, in the center of Cylarne, between the two Altars.” 

“Why can’t we stay indoors with the rest of them?” Gellius asked, seeking the maximum comfort possible. 

“Because you are mortal. This is holy ground, you’re lucky they even let you through the gates.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’m immortal, and I’m part of the Mazken guard. I’m not one of them, but I’m with them. Even still, I won’t be sleeping within the Halls of Despair because they do not sleep. I may be immortal, but I’m not a true servant of Sheogorath. I serve him out of my own free will, not because I have to.” Gellius nodded, taking his pack out to the center courtyard to start building a camp. They would need as much time as possible to prepare and deal with this battle. 

“What are you doing here, Seducer?” the female that had been arguing hissed at her. “You dare defile the ground before the Altar of Rapture?” 

“I’m here on Sheogorath’s business. I’ve come with his Champion, and we are here to settle this dispute. He, however, is human and cannot work as immortal’s do. You must wait until he is ready before any form of attack can begin.” 

“Tell that to your despicable compatriots. It is they who would defy the order of Sheogorath, for we are his only true servants.” 

 

“Don’t worry, Saint, I went to them first.” She lied, but it shut the Golden Saint up. How she couldn’t stand them! Always so right, so perfect, so… annoying! Issandi was greeted with a lighter tone when she descended into the Halls of Despair. A fellow Grakedrig was there, discussing battle plans with a few lower Mazken. 

“Have you come to join us in our battle, Grakedrig Issandi?” Ulfri, another commander, asked as she approached. “Otherwise you will find yourself in a dangerous position, between the Mazken and their prey.” 

“The righteous Golden Saints?” 

“Precisely. We are preparing to wipe out the arrogant Aureals once and for all. Once they break themselves on our defenses, Cylarne will be ours, a gift for our Lord Sheogorath.” Issandi nodded in approval. It was the Mazken attitude that she agreed with, the willingness to do whatever it took to achieve a goal. 

“As much as I admire your readiness to attack, I am here on Sheogorath’s business with his Champion.” 

Grakedrig Ulfri bowed, sweeping one hand off to the side. “I am sorry, Emissary. I did not realize.” 

“Don’t bow to me, please, Ulfri. We are equals, let us act like it.” The Mazken commander straightened up, a look of respect in her eyes that was transmitted into the ever so slight nod of her head. “Our Lord’s Champion is a mortal, and thus he cannot prepare for such a battle as easily as we can. I hate to bring bad news, but you and your army must wait until he is prepared.” 

“A most difficult situation, but one I can oblige. We will wait. However, if the Aureals attack us first, we will be forced to defend.” 

“Have no worries, Ulfri, I have spoken with the Saints. They will not attack until they believe the Champion is prepared.” 

“Thank you, Issandi.” She nodded, turning back to her other, lower Mazken, and dismissed them. “You are welcome here any time.” 

“I thank you as well, but I must take my leave. Our Lord’s Champion is a fool, and I’ve been tasked with keeping him from doing anything stupid.” Ulfri laughed, nodding to let her leave. Issandi did, smiling as she returned to what she hoped would be a finished camp. No such luck. Gellius was having difficulties with preparing the tent, let alone a fire and food. She rolled her eyes, pushing him out of the way and instructing him on the proper construction of a camp tent, a fire, and how to determine if Shivering Isles foods were safe to eat. They had roasted Baliwog legs for dinner, something that didn’t please Gellius to much, but Issandi found them quite good. She’d had worse here, but she’d also had far better. 

Issandi made sure Gellius stayed in his tent that night, not letting herself sleep until he was out, and even then not keeping her eyes closed for long. But the discomfort from being sleep deprived was better than letting him have a chance to repeat Dunroot Burrow. The morning greeted them kindly, Gellius insisting that they go and speak with the Golden Saint commander. 

“Greetings, Emissary,” she smiled at him, completely ignoring Issandi in her Dark Seducer garb. “We have been preparing to sweem the Mazken scum,” she hissed the last word in Issandi’s face, knowing she had to do whatever the Champion asked, “from Cylarne. Perhaps Sheogorath sent you here to help us?” 

“What are your battle plans? Do you believe yourselves ready?” 

“The only way to assault the Altar of Despair is down the main passage between the two altars. It will be difficult. The Mazken have fortified their position. But I am confident that with your help, we can defeat them. Will you help us retake the Altar of Despair, and drive the Mazken out of Cylarne once and for all?” 

“We overheard your discussion about the Underkeep last evening. Would you consider that route?” 

“Are all males so insolent? The Underkeep is a perfect example of why males do not hold command positions. He has failed to consider the risks of his plan. If the Mazken have prepared an ambush along that route, we would be slaughtered. We're better off storming the main passage, where our superior strength and bladework can come into play.” Issandi nudged him, but didn’t speak. 

“I’ll… um, I’ll get back to you.” He turned away with her, hissing, “What?” 

“An ambush is the perfect thing. We could convince Kaneh to attack via the Unerkeep, but warn Grakedrig Ulfri of the plan, and set up an ambush. We’d slaughter them!” 

“I’m the Champion, I make the decisions. I’d rather help the Saints.” 

Issandi glared at him. “I’m the one who has to make sure you live through this, so I will be doing all the fighting. If the Mazken or Aureals suspect that you have betrayed them, they will attempt to kill you. Emissary or no. We assist the Altar of Despair.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes, but obliged. Kaneh watched them enter the Halls of Despair, wondering what the Champion could be thinking. 

“Yes, Emissary? Grakedrig Issandi?” Ulfri greeted them. 

“What have you decided thus far as to your battle plans?” Issandi asked, letting Gellius take the back seat on this one. 

“We are expecting the Aureals to attack any moment. They'll come down the main passage from the Altar of Rapture. They always do. They are overconfident, as usual. We have prepared many traps and ambushes. It will be a glorious slaughter. Once the Aureals are destroyed, I will light the Flame of Agnon for you. Will you help us defend the Altar of Despair?” 

“We can lead the saints into an ambush.” A twisted grin spread across both of their faces. “Gellius can convince them to attack via the Underkeep, where you and I will be waiting for them with the rest of your Mazken.” 

“I never suspected that Kaneh had the audacity to try such a risky assault. But we'll teach her to try to take the Mazken by surprise! We'll cut them to pieces in those corridors! I'll redeploy my forces at once. You have the Emissary return to Kaneh and lead her into the trap. Once they are destroyed, I will kindle the Altars. Good hunting, Issandi.” Ulfri turned to those under her command, shouting orders to take to the Underkeep. “The Aureals think to take us by surprise! We will teach them what happens to those who trifle with the Mazken!” She equipped her helmet, nodding in respect to Issandi as she left. 

“Go, tell Kaneh to take to Underkeep. Once you do, keep your head down! The Saints will attack you once they see it is a trap, but at that point we should be able to keep you safe.” 

“You should? I’m the Champion! I can’t die!” 

“And you won’t, so long as you follow orders!” Issandi ran off, taking up her shield as she followed the rest of Ulfri’s army to the Underkeep. 

Gellius mumbled curses to himself, damning Issandi to Oblivion among other things. She dare give him orders? Orders that he didn’t even want to follow? He’d show her that he was not to be trifled with. Kaneh will know that the Underkeep is a trap, and he will lead them through the front passage. He will instruct them, however, to make sure the non Mazken Seducer survives. She could still be of use to him. 

“Greetings, Emissary,” Kaneh bowed to him. At least she showed respect where it was due! “We await your command.” 

“Take the main passage. The Grakedrigs have set up an ambush in the Underkeep for you.” Mirel, the male who had suggested the attack first, shrank in his armor. “Aureals! We attack the main passage! The Mazken will be destroyed before they awake to the danger! Follow me! Thank you Emissary, for this warning.” 

“Just one thing, could you be sure that the Grakedrig Issandi, the once mortal Seducer, survives?” 

“Whatever for?” He didn’t answer, but she shook her head in disbelief. “Alright, but I cannot guarantee she will come out unscathed.” 

“I just need her alive.” 

Kaneh nodded. “Aureals, attack!” 


	6. Chapter 6

Issandi knelt beside Ulfri, waiting for the Golden Saints to come rushing down with Kaneh in the lead. They should have been there by now… what was keeping them? Both Grakedrig’s snapped their head back when they heard fighting from behind. They attacked the main passage. “Gellius!” she swore under her breath. “I’ll kill the bastard.” Issandi charged off In front of the others, intending to find the fetcher and deal with him as she saw fit. Half of the force of the Mazken had been slaughtered already, having been the backups. 

“Mazken! They’re behind us!” Ulfri shouted. “I thought the Emissary was going to lead them into an ambush?” Issandi shook her head viciously, bolting forward. 

“Guess he changed his mind!” Kaneh was leading with a confident stride, a large group of female immortals behind her. At the back were the males, and Gellius. Issandi crashed into them, throwing her shield out to split the leading ranks. Kaneh staggered, but stuck out and caught her axe across Issandi’s calf. She screamed, falling to her knee as several more Saints ran past. They seemed to be… ignoring her? Towards the rest of the Mazken force, Ulfri lashed out, attempting to get to her fellow Grakedrig. Gellius stood in back, watching, until he heard Issandi’s scream. She was hurt? How bad was it? He saw the Golden Saint commander raise her axe, striking down at the near prone Imperial. He yelled out, charging with his blade, now Duskfang. Just as he did, Ulfri’s blade came down on the opposite Commander’s arm, severing it at the elbow. Her next strike caught the other across the throat, dropping her. 

“Mazken, this is it! Let’s finish them!’ All of them hollered, running head first into the retreating mass of Aureals. Gellius had attacked a few of the male Saints, killing only a couple. Once the tide turned and the yellow toned immortals started retreating, he cowered in the corner in an attempt to not get trampled. The few remaining Dark Seducers killed the fleeing Saints, calling back in triumph. Most of them had been wounded, a lot of them severely. Issandi’s wound wasn’t as bad as the others, but it did need some tending. The Aureals had come prepared, a lot of them with poisoned blades or arrows. Her calf had been cut deep, Kaneh’s blade poisoned with a draining agent. She felt weak and couldn’t stand, even struggling against Grakedrig Ulfri as she helped her around. Gellius came running up to the two of them, getting a vicious glare from both. “Victory is ours,” she said, her tone angry. “I have already instructed my subordinates to kindle the Altar of Rapture. It is my honor to sacrifice myself on the Altar of Despair at Lord Sheogorath's command.” 

“Sacrifice?” Gellius’ mind stopped. What if it had been Issandi who had to sacrifice herself? 

“The Altars which feed the Flame of Agnon can be kindled only by the willing death of an immortal. I have hoped for this moment since I took command of the Mazken at Cylarne.” Ulfri assisted Issandi until they reached the Altar of Despair. “I return my soul to the embrace of Oblivion's dark waters. Farewell.” Issandi stood on her own, keeping most of her weight on her good leg. Gellius offered help, but she refused, not being kind in the least about it. They all watched as Ulfri stood on the Altar, taking a ceremonial blade and burying it deep into her chest. She collapsed in her own blood, a blue-green flame starting on her torso where the blade struck, suddenly erupting to engulf her entire body and more. The flame had been lit, and they could only hope the same had been done at the Altar of Rapture. 

Issandi limped outside, Gellius following sullenly behind, to see it was indeed ablaze, both the green and gold flame combined into one holy flame. He took an unlit torch, sticking the end into the flame. Despite his expectance for it to instantly light, there was nothing done to the torch. No damage, no change at all. ”You have to step into the flame, it will light you,” she instructed him, drinking a restorative potion. Her wound sealed up, but her leg was still sore. 

“Step into it? No! I… I can’t!” Gellius had never told anyone, but he was always afraid of burning alive. He wouldn’t step into the fire, he couldn’t. 

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she mumbled. Still with a slight limp in her walk, Issandi stepped into the holy flame. When she emerged, the blaze did not leave her. It covered her entire body, but dealt no damage to her person, if anything, it rejuvenated her. She did not limp. “We’ll have to camp tonight, but we should make it back to New Sheoth early tomorrow.” 

At the camp, Issandi couldn’t sleep. She didn’t feel tired, nor did she feel fatigue when they walked. She may have been the one injured in the battle, but it was Gellius who was slowing her down. They entered through Bliss, all of the citizens following in amazement. Partly because Issandi carried the flame, and partly because it was Issandi. They did not expect a Dark Seducer to carry the flame through their city, especially not when it should have been Sheogorath’s Champion! The Sacellum was empty except for the two priests, one from Mania, the other from Dementia. 

“Ahh!” Arctus recognized Issandi instantly. “You burn with the purging Fire of Agnon, the flame of Truth, the flickering beacon of hope in the gloom of despond! Come, light the Great Torch for Dementia. Illuminate the conspiracies! Deepen the shadows! The people of Crucible await their Hero!” She headed to light the torch for Dementia, but Gellius stepped into her way. 

“I was planning on lighting it for Mania,” he let his voice trail away, looking down to the floor. 

“I’m the one carrying the flame. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you back at Cylarne for your betrayal.” Issandi pushed past him, lighting the green flame for the whole city to see. 

“You are truly demented, Grakedrig issandi! The Great Torch flares with the light of Dementia! All of Crucible will be celebrating tonight!” Both Imperials turned their heads as a loud clapping was heard at the back of the Sacellum. Shegorath sat at the back, his cane across his lap. 

“Aren't you off to a good start! That's important. For Me. Really, your work is going to save Me a lot of time.” 

Gellius paused, raising his hands. “Wait, I’m saving YOU time?” 

“The Greymarch is upon us, and the Ordering begins. Armies of Order sweep My Realm. Death. Destruction. Then I have to pick up the pieces. And there are always lots of pieces. I don't like it, having to rebuild My Realm every era. Sometimes I forget where things go. Like New Sheoth. I can never remember where it belongs.... You'll change that. Break the cycle. You'll stop Jyggalag, and I'll have My Realm to come back to. I've never actually tried that before.” Sheogorath stood, walking up the center of the aisle to the altar. No one else but Haskill would have noticed, but he was leaning on his cane. He looked tired, no, exhausted. 

“My Lord, how can he stop the Greymarch?” To Issandi it didn’t seem possible, but she still hoped. From the sounds of things, everyone in the realm would be killed. 

“Why not? Something has to work. Once, I dug a pit and filled it with clouds. Or was it clowns? Doesn't matter. It didn't slow him down. To be honest, it wasn't the best idea. And it really began to smell. Must have been clowns. Clouds don't smell bad. They taste of butter! And tears. But, this is all new! A fresh idea! Something I hadn't thought of, until I did. It's sure to work, even though it might not.” 

“What needs to be done now, my Lord?” 

“Now? He'll need the respect of My citizens. They'll need a leader, someone to look up to when I'm gone.” Issandi flinched involuntarily. “They're the backbone of any great land. Except where the backbone is an actual backbone. Ever been to Malacath's realm...? Nasty stuff. But, back to the business at hand. He'll need to control one of the Courts of Madness. Replace a current Duke. Or Duchess. Whichever. That will command respect! The people will rally around him, and you. You have their love, their admiration, their complaints, but he needs it! Whatever. As long as it keeps them on Our side.” 

“Won’t this anger the Dukes?” Gellius asked, sitting down on the front pew. 

“No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. Well... yes. Absolutely. Bit of a shame for them. But, sometimes you need to break a few eggs. Or skulls. There are rules, though. Even in the Isles. Rituals and rules. You need to follow them. Speak to Arctus and Dervenin. They can explain what needs to be done. And you've always got our man Haskill to call on for help. Faithful like a good hound, that one. And he looks better in a suit.” Gellius laughed, but Issandi was dead quiet. There was a lot wrong with the situation. It almost made her sick. The Mad God dismissed him to go speak with the Priests, leaving Issandi to discuss more with Sheogorath. She was sincerely concerned about him. Few men earned her trust outside of her family, but he managed to. She cursed herself for it several times in the past, but perhaps he even wormed his way into her heart. 

“My Lord, I know you like your secrets.” 

“Of course I do! My secrets are mine, unless they’re yours. Then they’re Ours.” 

“I know…” she paused, placing her hands on the Altar of Arden-Sul, clutching the fabric until her knuckles were white. “Please, tell me what you know about the Greymarch.” 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, sending a chill down her spine. “It's all moving faster than I'd expect. And I'm good at expecting. Things are getting a bit thin. You'll have to lead My forces, inspire My people. Hopefully, everyone won't end up dead, like they always do. It’s the death of all things.” He seemed sad, but he’d never show it to someone he didn’t trust. Issandi was lucky she even saw it. 

“We’ll stop Jyggalag, my Lord.” 

“He'll be here soon, and I'll be gone. Can't say I like the sound of that. I like the sound of other things, though. Like birds. And bones cracking.” 

They continued speaking quietly, making sure to keep it just between them. The Mad God may be mad, but he wasn’t about to let all his secrets out. Gellius stood between the two Priests, thinking deeply. He could either kill Thadon of Mania using Greenmote, but he had no sneak ability. He was an heir, not a thief or assaasin. Or he could go after Syl of Dementia, but she’d likely put up a fight if someone came after her heart. He couldn’t match either of the two situations, but he knew who could. Besides, if he took over as Duke of Dementia, he would have control over the Dark Seducers, and Issandi through them. It seemed the best possible situation. 

“You're back!” Sheogorath lifted his head, the same usual smile on his face. “How nice for you. Does that mean you've made a decision? Or are you lost? Suicidal? Just let me know.” 

“I’m ready to make my decision.” Issandi stood quiet, slightly interested in who he had chosen. She hoped, begged, prayed that it was not Syl. 

“A friendly word of warning before you choose. Once you have decided which Duke to replace, there's no turning back. One choice. No more, no less. Try not to do something stupid. So, which is it? What will it be? Mania? Dementia? The suspense is killing me. Or you, if I have to keep waiting.” 

“Syl, Duchess of Dementia.” Issandi cursed in her head, but did not show it in her features. He just had to try. 

“A dangerous choice. I like it! She’s gotten to be a bit much, anyway. Thinks everyone is out to get her. Which they are, in this case. So be it.” He walked away from the two of them, slowly vanishing. 

“You don’t know a damn thing about Syl,” Issandi cursed, pushing him towards the door. “Constantly watch your back, she’ll be on to you. Conspiracy theories are second nature to her, she can find one where it doesn’t exist yet. She’s probably already suspecting that someone is coming to kill her.” 

Gellius hung his head, having not realized how difficult this would be for them both. Syl was not in the House of Dementia, as far as they could see, but Kithlan was easy to find. “What is it you require?” the Redguard asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Have you… seen Syl anywhere?” Gellius didn’t bother keeping it hidden that he was seeking to replace her in office. Kithlan looked as though he was about to refuse to speak with them, but Issandi gave him a glare and he spoke. 

“Yes, I see you may have what it takes to replace her. Very well, what is it you need from me?” 

The Imperial grinned, his stance changing. “I need to get close to her… for the ritual.” 

“Hmmm… That may be difficult. Syl has been hidden from public sight lately. However, I can give you something that may help.” Again, Kithlan glanced over his shoulder. From his pocked he produced a key, handing it inconspicuously to them. “Take this. It should unlock any door in her wing of the palace. You still need to be wary of her Seducer guards, but it should help.” He dropped the conversation instantly, walking up to take a seat by Syl’s empty throne. 

“We need to find Anya,” Issandi whispered, leading him towards the back rooms of the House. “She may be able to help.” Gellius nodded, following her. 

“Ah, good to see you again!” the Breton greeted them, looking only at Issandi. 

“I need a favor,” she said, leaning in closer. “We need to get to Syl.” 

“She is staying well out of sight. No need to take unnecessary risks. I maintain a close watch on her. She fears that Sheogorath no longer favors her presence and wants her replaced.” 

“Can you get us to her?” 

“Just remember me when he takes over her position. The best I can offer is help with the guards. I can distract at least two of them and get them to leave her wing of the Palace. That should help you get in there a bit closer.” Anya walked casually towards the back gardens, nodding for the two of them to follow. Issandi took her bow, keeping an arrow ready. Dusk was falling, and they’d be best suited for sneak attacks. There were two elite Seducers patrolling the gardens, but they ignored the Breton as she passed. Issandi hushed Gellius, keeping him behind her and quiet. The first Mazken fell silently, an arrow protruding from just under her helmet. The other watched her compatriot fall, calling out a war cry and charging them. Sheogorath’s Champion stood and met her, deciding to help Issandi as best he could. The guard knocked him aside, about to carve out his throat, when another of Issandi’s arrows hit its target. She fell to the side, Gellius scooting away from the corpse. 

“Come on, we need to finish this. Syl won’t be so easy to take down.” They entered the Duchess’ quarters, but she could not hear a heartbeat, aside from Anya and Gellius. There was a body on the bed, but it was not living. The Count-to-be ran forward, cheering in triumph, to the imposter on the bed. Only when he got close did he realize his mistake. 

“Don’t be fooled,” Kithlan spoke from behind them. “The Ritual isn’t over. The body on the bed isn’t Syl, but merely an imposter. The real Syl uses many such decoys to throw would-be killers off her trail. Syl has made her escape through the hidden tunnel in the gardens outside her quarters! She must not get away! Be wary, I fear that her escape may be a ruse to lure you into an ambush.” 

Before Gellius could speak, Issandi answered his question. “I know where to go, just follow me.” She led him out, pressing in the hooked nose of a nearby statue of Sheogorath. It spun, disappearing down below a ladder. Issandi walked ahead of Gellius, making sure that he didn’t make a mistake that could cost him his life. She made him duck magickal blasts from enchanted Hunger statues, and even disposed of two Dark Seducers that had barricaded the door they needed to go through. Once through the corridors, Issandi spotted Syl with her two elite Seducer guards. “I’ll deal with the two guards, you go right for Syl. I’ll help you when I’m done with them.” She ran forward, heading right for the two guards. Issandi fended off the two elite Mazken while Gellius charged Syl. She screamed at him, drawing Nevershatter from her back 

“I’ll have your head on a spike!” He charged her, overconfident as usual, and got the crystals of the war hammer in his chest. Things seemed to slow down to a near stop as his chest caved in and he fell to his back. All sound was gone, Issandi was fighting in silence as she cut down one of the two Seducers. She called out his name, but to him it just appeared as though she was moving her mouth with no sounds. Dawnfang clattered to the ground as Gellius landed. He couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was drowning, but he couldn’t move his limbs to get out of the water. Everything winked out to black. 

“Damnit!” Issandi cursed, pulling her blade out of the last Mazken’s chest. “Don’t die on me Gellius!” 

“Stand down, Grakedrig! I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Syl hissed over him. 

“I won’t either.” She charged the Duchess, ducking under a high swing. Her blade caught Syl’s thigh, digging deep to the bone. She fell to one knee, her slashed muscle twitching. 

“Bitch,” she breathed, using Nevershatter to help her stand. She attempted to take a step forward, but Syl’s leg collapsed in on itself. Killing a helpless opponent was poor taste, but Issandi needed to see to Gellius. She took the crystal war hammer from Syl, crushing her chest just as she had done to Sheogorath’s Champion. Syl attempted to breathe, but her lungs had collapsed under the force of the blow. “No! Sheogorath protect me!” she screamed as Nevershatter was brought down on her skull. Issandi dropped the weapon by the Duchess’ corpse, kneeling beside Gellius. His chest had been crumpled in a similar manner, but the damage was not as severe. Syl may have been a Duchess, but her strength wasn’t enough to kill anyone in one strike. 

“Oh, Gellius,” she whispered, casting the strongest restorative spell her father had taught her. His ribs popped up and cracked as they realigned, the breaks sealing as though they’d never existed. He’d been in great pain, but he should live. The Imperial’s eyes snapped open, his mouth wide as he inhaled sharply. He coughed, several times spitting up blood, as he rolled over. Issandi knew he wouldn’t be moving easily for a while yet and took over the task of removing Syl’s heart. The Duchess’ ribs were crushed, making the task fairly easy. It had been slightly damaged, Issandi decided it would be best to wrap the organ up and pack it safely away. 

“Issandi…” Gelius gasped, still on his side. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t say anything, staring down at the tiled stone. “I’m sorry for all I did to you.” 

“Quiet,” she hissed. “Just.. be quiet.” She slung Gellius’ pack over her shoulder, helping him stand. He continually tried to apologize, but she never said anything in response to him. She didn’t trust herself to. He had great difficulties getting around, and issandi ended up carrying him through New Sheoth to the Sacellum Arden-Sul. 

Two Dark Seducers stood on either side of the altar, along with Sheogorath and the Priest Arctus. Issandi let Gellius take the heart and walk the rest of the way down the aisle to the altar. He placed it in the amber and madness ore dish and waited. Nothing happened. He picked it up, then again sat it in the dish. Still, nothing happened. Confused, Issandi walked to the altar and grabbed the heart in her hand. A blue-green flame burst from it, causing her to shriek in surprise and jump back. The organ burned until there was nothing left in the dish, not even ashes. 

Arctus threw up his arm, chanting an odd hymn before turning to Issandi. ”Once again has the Ritual of Accession come full circle! The heart of Syl has been consumed by Arden-Sul’s will, and the Demented welcome you with open arms, again, Grakedrig Issandi!” Frustration showed in Gellius’ eyes, but he did not speak. He was supposed to be Duke! He was the Champion! “I now declare you to be Duchess of Dementia of the Shivering Isles! May your wrath and anger be your guide.” 

Even Sheogorath seemed pleasantly surprised. “You’ve done it! The Ritual is complete, and you’ve both survived! And who’d have thought it’d be My mouse, not My Champion, to take the roll! Seems I chose the wrong mortal, or once mortal. Now, on to other-” 

“Wait!” Thadon’s voice interrupted the Mad God. “I must speak! Halt! Cease! Desist!” 

“Thadon, how dare you interrupt Me! Only I interrupt Me. Like just then. I’m speaking with someone. Or someones. We’ll talk later. Or not. When is later, exactly? Not now, I’m sure of that. Guards, I think Thadon forgot how to use the door. Kindly show him out. Before I forget myself.” Two Golden Saints followed in behind the Bosmer Duke as he approached Sheogorath. He seemed dismayed, shocked, a bit of both. 

“Syl… my… Syl is dead? This can’t be right. Is this right? What have you done? Have you done this?” Gellius shook his head, pointing to Issandi when the Bosmer glared at him. 

“Hold your tongue, little Duke, or I’ll tear it from your mouth.” 

“But, this… Seducer? A guard? From somewhere else? Not here, I’m sure of that. I don’t understand. Or I can’t.” 

“Calm yourself, Thadon. You’re making my teeth itch. You still hold your office. I suggest you see to your duties.” 

“Rediculous! You can’t do this! Although… you’re omnipotent. Or just tall. It’s one of the two, I’m sure. And a fool!” 

Issandi stood ready to draw Nevershatter from her shoulders and defend Sheogorath, should this fetcher think to try anything. If he didn’t, she would only attack if ordered to. “Fool? Visionary! Change is in the air, Thadon. Breathe it deep! Bathe in its scent! Bottle it up. Save some for later.” 

“Order approaches! It’s taken the Fringe already! With Order clothes and Order hats! And you speak of ‘change’?” 

“Change will preserve us! It’s the lifeblood of the Isles. It will move moutnaints! It will mount movements!” 

“No. No. Certainly not. This isn’t good. I’m sure it’s bad. I can’t do this anymore. No more.” 

Sheogorath waved his hands, clearly annoyed by Thadon as he argued. “Then go, Thadon. Have your Greenmote. Take a bath. But leave. Before I decorate my throne with your insides.” 

“Yes. That’s it. I’ll go. Away. Far away. Working for them is like working for us, but without all the dying.” The Seducers and the Guards drew their blades, looking like they were about to do battle with each other, not the Duke. 

“No! Let him go!” Sheogorath stopped them, raising his hand high. 

“Enough! I go to Jyggalag. I give myself to him, as a Priest of Order! This isn't done, Madgod. I think it's just started.” Thadon pushed past his Saints, leaving the Sacellum with them in tow. Gellius watched after them in surprise, looking between the empty aisle and Sheogorath. Issandi stayed quiet, suspecting why. 

“Wondering why I let him go, aren't you?” he laughed, looking at the Imperial. “I can see it in your face. Mostly in the eyes. I may take those from you if you return.” Gellius didn’t seem used to the Mad God’s comments, and balked. “This has never happened before! The ruler of Mania turning traitor? Unprecedented! But different is good. A new act in this play. Maybe I'm on to something here. We'll see how it plays out. You won’t. You’ll be home, not here. Things will be different. Maybe bad, but different. It can't be worse than what's happened before.” 

“I’m going home? Why? I thought I was your champion!” 

“Not anymore! Don’t argue, or I’ll strangle you with your insides. I’m never wrong, except when I am, and it seems I was! My Mouse has proved to be my champion, not you mortal. Now go away, leave, run, or die.” 

“But… the Fringe! The Duke said it was taken by Order, I can’t get through them!” 

“It’s to be expected.” 

“Sheo- My Lord, you can’t leave him to Order. He could defect to them, just as Thadon did. Send him home, like you did to me when I was a child. Please?” Her eyes pleaded with him, and he sighed. 

“Fine, fine! Just go. Be gone!” Sheogorath cast a spell on Gellius, his body glowing slightly around the edges, and he was gone. Whether he was sent to the door or somewhere else, Issandi couldn’t be sure, but she hoped that the Mad God had done as he said. The new Duchess of Dementia was led back to the House of Dementia by him, casual conversation being held between them. 

Issandi sat on the bed in her new chambers. She was Duchess of Dementia now. She was Sheogorath’s Champion, not Gellius. He was gone, sent home, or someone near to it. The Isles were far too dangerous for him, he didn’t belong. She lay back on the bed, watching the ceiling when it hit her. Her time had come and gone, but she had not bled. That only happened when… Issandi placed a hand on her abdomen and flinched. There was something there, a feeling. She was… pregnant? Throwing her helmet across the room, Issandi screamed. That bastard! He couldn’t just leave her in peace! She had only cried for a moment when she felt a strong, but soft hand on her shoulder. She didn’t know who it was, but she turned into their shoulder anyway. 

“Hush, My mouse. Be hushed.” It was Sheogorath. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, patting her back. “A mouse never cries, until it does. Why do you?” 

She sniffled, looking up into his odd eyes. “Gellius… he… I’m going to bear his child!” 

“You’ve let him touch you in ways that would make Thadon blush?” He looked taken aback, angry even. The news surprised him, that was clear, and it didn’t seem that he liked it so much. 

“No! I… He used Skooma and Felldew. I wouldn’t let him touch me. So he made me submit.” 

“Oh, My mouse.” He kissed the top of her head, placing a warm hand on her stomach. “All will be better.” Issandi looked up at him with large bloodshot eyes. There was a caring tone in his voice that really made her believe everything would be all right. A feeling of warmth flowed from his hand, spreading through her abdomen to her chest. As the feeling expanded, Sheogorath’s face took on a look of exhaustion. “All will be better,” he whispered again as she slowly fell asleep in his arms. She would be awake soon to a new surprise, one that should make her happy. Sheogorath arranged her comfortably on the bed, leaving to go find the Palace healer. “Go see to the new Duchess,” he told the Breton. “She’ll be needing you soon.” Even before he reached the Throne Room, Issandi’s struggling screams could be heard. She’d have a joy to call her own soon, one that would someday soothe her troubled mind. 

“My Lord, whatever is wrong with Lady Issandi?“ Haskill asked in his usual tone. 

“Leave a mother to her peace,” he muttered quietly, sitting heavily on his throne. 

“A mother? Oh my.” 

“It’s My once champion,” he sighed. “He did this.” Haskill did not tell the Mad God that he knew, but instead nodded and kept his peace. It would make no difference now if he spoke.


	7. Chapter 7

Soon the cries quieted and Issandi held an infant boy in her arms. Waking up to labor pains had jumbled her memories, but she had been sure that there was no way she should be giving birth to a normal sized child, yet here he was. She barely remembered crying into Sheogorath’s shoulder, as she didn’t believe it herself. But it must have been him who did this, no one else could. He gave her the child that only just started growing within her. Perhaps it was to make her happy, but maybe it was so she could still be of use to him. She couldn’t be sure, but she had her hopes. The baby boy yawned, looking up at Issandi with two colored eyes. She inhaled sharply, not expecting to see one blue eye, one yellow eye. Surely Sheogorath had done this, it was his signature. Two opposites, together as one. Issandi held the child to her chest, tears brimming her eyes again. Her son, her Carius. He was in the world now, and even though this child belonged to the man who had raped her twice, she loved it. She would have to thank Sheogorath. She had so much to thank him for. 

 

*** 

 

“You’re positively beaming!” he exclaimed when she finally left her quarters to see the Mad God. “My beautiful little mouse now has her own brood to tend. Wonderful!” Issandi smiled sadly at him. It was clear on his face now that the Greymarch was taking its toll. Perhaps bringing Carius to her had been too much for him. 

“Is there anything you need from me, my Lord?” 

“I’m sorry My mouse, I lied to you. Thadon was right about the Fringe. I could feel it. In My bones. The little ones. The Greymarch has swept the Fringe. Order gathers its forces there as we speak. And I hate when people gather forces in My Fringe. You'll need to put an end to that. Stop them. My armies should already be there, but I want you to see what you can do to help. They’ve done fine so far, but they need help. Who better than My mouse, Grakedrig, and Duchess of Dementia! If they continue to marshal their forces there, we won't be able to contain them. Make sure they can't.” 

“I will go at once.” 

“Be careful,” Issandi swore she heard him whisper as she exited the palace. 

Sheogorath was right. The instant she entered the Fringe, she could see the crystalline spires protruding from the ground around the Gates of Madness. The whole place appeared dreary and boring. “Retreat!” she heard shouted from down near Passwall. Running at a full sprint, Passwall came into full view just in time for her to see a female Mazken get cut down by a Knight of Order. Issandi had never seen what happened to the corpse of one felled by a Knight, but what she saw astonished her. The entire corpse crystallized, from head to toe, until it looked like nothing more than a pile of Order crystals. “Fall back to the town center!” the last remaining female Mazken called to the others. “Now! Now! Move!” Order knights were in hot pursuit, swinging their blades at anything they could reach. Archers did what they could, but it wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. Issandi kicked into high gear, leaping onto the back of a Knight and burying her sword into the back of its neck. The creature fell, its white blood burning her skin. Nevershatter remained on her back for the moment, waiting for a moment where it could crush the Knight of Order’s armor. 

“Your Grace,” a male soldier bowed, following his orders to return to the city center. 

The last female came running up, who Issandi recognized to be Udico. “Your Grace!” she gasped. “The situation is grim. Passwall has been under attack for days. We are outmatched and outnumbered. Days ago, when dusk fell, the spire at the center of town became active. Soon after, the area around it began to crystallize and change. It wasn’t long after that the Knights came. ” 

Issandi cursed, assessing the situation. The Grakendo was right, there was nothing of madness left in Passwall, Order had done its work. “There has to be something we can do. Something to stop this.” 

“I do have an idea how we might be able to stop them, but for now our primary concern must be our survival. Without us, there is no one to defend the Fringe. I’ve been losing Mazken with each attack, and now I’m down to nothing but men. We are pinned down here. If we lose, the Gates of Madness will fall. If the gates fall, the enemy will flood into the Isles. We will be helpless to stop them. Now that you’ve arrived, perhaps we can slow them down.” 

“What has to be done?” 

“Forgive me, but we cannot talk now – we don’t have very long until the next wave arrives. Even though I have served with these Mazken for decades, as the Duchess of Dementia it is your right to command the troops. I know you have experience as Grakedrig, and I trust your judgment. Command them if you will, or leave it to me. Either way, make haste. Time is short.” 

“I trust you to command your troops, Grakendo. I leave it to you.” 

“I thank you for your trust. In your name and for the sake of the Shivering Isles, I shall not disappoint you. Inspect the battlefield as you see fit and provide what aid you can to the troops. You’re our last line of defense, Your Grace.” Her voice rose, spanning over the entire town. “Mazken! Form up! For the sake of your sorry male hides, move! MOVE!” Issandi loved the attitude of the Grakendo. Few outside of the Isles would stand up to a man, but here it was the women who had authority. “Are you prepared, Your Grace?” 

“Let us deal with these fetchers and save the Isles, my friend.” 

“I imagine we will not have to wait for them long, Your Grace.” As she finished speaking, a male archer cried out as the Knights pulled themselves from the crystalline shards that scattered the area. They came three at a time, but it was enough to overwhelm their force. Issandi sheathed her blade, taking Nevershatter from her back and charged the first of the Knights to emerge. Its armor shattered under the force of the blow, sending a head flying from its shoulders. White blood spewed from the severed neck, turning whatever it touched to crystal. “Mazken, back to your positions!” Udico shouted as the last of the knights fell. This pattern of attack and retreat repeated for several waves, each time the male numbers dwindling. The Grakendo stayed back a ways, insisting that Issandi do the same, but she could not leave her friends, subjects as they were now, to perish in the onslaught. She felled several Knights herself, keeping most of the force from the men. They just couldn’t survive the continued attack. When the wave’s last Knight was destroyed, Issandi took some time to clean the gore of battle from her skin and armor. “Victory is ours… for the moment,” Udico spoke as she approached the new Duchess. She just nodded, taking a scoop of water and splashing it over her face. It was bland and tasteless, making her shiver a bit. “We must discuss our next move. The spire is obviously their source of power. This battle will not end until we find a way to shut it down.” 

“What is it you have in mind?” 

“I am not certain what we can do. But do not lose heart, I have an idea. The ruins of Xeddefen run under Passwall. The entrance to the south of the town has been sealed for centuries. One of my scouts reported that the ruins have been opened recently and a number of these Knights are now guarding the entrance.” 

“Did she go inside?” 

“I sent her in, yes, and she did not return. I can only assume that she was caught and killed. A terrible fate.” The Grakendo looked to the ground, going silent for a moment out of respect. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

“If we attempt to assault Xeddefen, Passwall will be overrun and we will lose the Fringe.” Issandi nodded in agreement. “Additionally, our forces here are dangerously thin. We have no idea what opposition may await inside. A frontal assault is not an option.” There were few ways around their situation, but Issandi could think of one. It wasn’t good. 

“The only option is for one to head in alone, or with a very small strike team.” She closed her eyes, mind racing back and forth. She couldn’t send Udico, she had to lead the troops. She couldn’t send only men, as they would botch the mission. “I’ll go it alone.” 

“Your insight is impressive, I was thinking the same thing. Although I regret to send you alone, we will draw their attention here, and you should be able to slip inside Xeddefen. Once inside, search for the source of the Spire’s power. It might be underground somewhere. Once you find it, do whatever you can to destroy it. Good luck to you, Your Grace. May the voice of the hidden guide you to the way.” 

Issandi smiled sadly, placing a firm grip on the Mazken’s shoulder. “If I don’t return, be sure that Carius gets the best attention. I may be Duchess and Grakedrig, but I’m also a mother, and I won’t leave my child unprotected.” 

Udieo nodded, placing her hand on Issandi’s shoulder as well. “It will be done, Your Grace. Good luck to you.” 

“May Sheogorath watch over me!” she shouted, running off to the south. May Sheogorath watch over them all. 

Udico had been right, Issandi was forced to kill several Knights of Order simply on the outside of the ruins, and used the sneaking techniques her mother had taught her to make her way through the rest of the ruins. She was still faced with several adversaries, but many fewer than she would have otherwise. Had she a companion to fight with, she may have attacked them all, but alone she could only do so much. She didn’t want to admit it then, but Gellius’ help would have been welcome. The main passage, leading all the way back to the Fane, was fairly empty of Knights. Some priests had set up stations, drawing up spires of crystal, but they and their Knight guards were all killed with either a bow, her blade, or the gleaming Nevershatter. It lived up to its name, crushing and destroying the Order Knights and Priests, but never breaking or showing damage. 

She passed through one of the heavy stone doors, seeing an active obelisk through rusted steel gates. Below there was but a single Priest, with many guards. Issandi proceeded forward, always keeping her eye on the Obelisk until she heard the shifting of walls. Snapping her head, she came face to face with the Redguard who called himself mayor, Sheldon. 

“Grakedrig!” he shouted, a bit too loud. 

“Shut up!” she hissed, making sure the Knights hadn’t spotted them. 

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, a tad quieter. 

“I walked. What happened up in the Fringe?” 

“When they attacked, I ran from Passwall. They didn’t say a word, they just started killing! The screams!” He shuddered, sinking to his knees. “By the Staff, you can’t imagine the screams!” 

“I think I can,” she muttered, imagining all the dying Mazken that had given their lives to defend the Isles from these monstrosities. 

“Felas and I slipped down here thinking that we’d be safe. But, no! We landed right in the middle of them!” Issandi looked behind him, but didn’t see the Dunmer. “Felas ran off with them and left me to die! That ingrate! Disloyal cur! Imagine, leaving me here all alone!” His voice was rising, and she had to hush him again. 

“Where did they take him?” 

“I didn’t say they took him – he went with them! I’ve heard his voice a few times around here. I think… I think he joined them!” Issandi cursed, louder than she wanted to, and watched as one of the Knights twitched. She shoved Sheldon back behind the wall, putting out his torch. The creature turned to face their direction, its head going from side to side as it searched, but settled back down and turned back to the glowing Obelisk. 

“Have you tried to get out of here?” she whispered very quietly. 

“Every time I look for a way out, I get twisted around and end up back here. But I’m too smart for them. You seem to have no trouble, though. Look at you, barely a scratch!” She rolled her eyes, there were more ‘scratches’ than she would have hoped. “A Grakedrig would be the perfect person to protect me!” 

“You sure you aren’t just a coward? 

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware that being a courageous hero was a requirement around here.” Issandi almost hit him. How she preferred the presence of Mazken men. Even the Saint’s men had more manners than this one! “Look, you may be a Grakedrig, but I’m offering you the change to be the hero of Passwall. Escort me out of here, protect me, get me home, and these people will praise you more than you can imagine.” She just rolled her eyes. This Redguard coward would insist that she protect him until her ears started bleeding, so she just nodded. 

“Fine, just don’t do anything stupid. I’ve gotten this far without killing myself, I don’t want you to mess me up.” 

“I’ll do what I can to help. I… I like to hurt things. Maybe I can hurt these damned Knights.” 

“No,” she ordered. “You stay out of sight. I’ll handle the Knights.” 

“You have a personal vendetta with them? Fine by me, so long as I live.” 

“Right, so just stay here, out of sight, until I get back. Try not to get killed.” Issandi left him standing in the secret room in the dark, running back out into the hallway. If Felas was down there, she’d tear him apart. More crystal spires rose, nearly cutting off her path, as she ran. One in particular almost took her off her feet. Issandi threw her blade up under the lone Priests ribcage, the breastplate of crystal shattering. Tearing off his mask, she found it was not the Dunmer she sought. Two knights attacked her, one cutting its blade across her back. She cried out, falling onto the Obelisk. The crystal started to form around her arms where she fell, attempting to seal her to the formation. With the Knight still charging, and the Obelisk trapping her, Issandi’s choices were limited. She kicked across what was a form of crystalline facemask, meanwhile using the hilt of her blade to crack the forming rocks around her arms. Once one arm was free, the other quickly followed, and she was able to disarm, both literally and figuratively, the Knight that had attacked her. Its corpse fell into the Obelisk, near where she had, the entire body being absorbed into it. Issandi cursed as another new Knight crawled its way out of the structure. As it did, however, the fluorescent light weakened. Something about the Knight had disrupted the Obelisk, giving her an idea. 

With each Knight that attacked her, she killed them, threw them into the Obelisk, and slaughtered the next that came at her. After each one, its condition became worse until the entire Obelisk shut down and began to crumble. As it shattered, so did the walls around it. Xeddefen was coming down around her head! She ran back to Shelden, narrowly avoiding being crushed under a pile of rubble falling from the ceiling. “Let’s get your sorry ass out of here!” Issandi shouted, grabbing his arm. Stones had blocked her original path into the fort, but had also revealed a side passage through an underground root system. It was their only chance. 

The Knights were few, but the danger was still great. Issandi found herself casting several restorative spells to keep her and Sheldon going through the crumbling walls. A column collapsed, bringing down an entire section of the ceiling on top of them. Issandi shoved the Redguard out of the way, screaming out as the bones in her legs cracked. A Hunger statue malfunctioned, sending a stream of shock in their direction. Had Issandi not fallen where she did, she may have been shocked as well as crushed. ”Damnit!” she shouted, groaning as she tried to push the large stone from her legs. Another series of shouts came forth, but it didn’t budge. 

“You are the worst escort in history!” Sheldon yelled, running off in another direction. He didn’t even bother to try and help her. Issandi laid her head back, watching as more of the ceiling crumbled around her. Repeatedly she tried to remove the stone, but each time it only caused her more pain with no apparent advancement. Eventually she just gave up, praying that someone would take care of Carius. He needed a good role model. Perhaps even Sheogorath would watch after the boy, after the Greymarch. Issandi’s eyes widened in fear. Sheogorath had said that everything in the Isles would perish during the Greymarch. If Carius wasn’t taken out of the Isles, he would die with it! Screaming out, she put all her strength into moving the stone, tears running down her cheeks when it didn’t move. If she didn’t get out of this damned place, Carius would die! 

She shouted in surprise when another portion of the walls came down. Luckily, they created a ripple effect through the already crumbled stone and knocked the rock from her legs away. Issandi’s legs were mangled, bone sticking out of the skin in places. They were completely crushed. The pain was immense, but not as much so as the emotional pain she was feeling for having let down Sheogorath and her son. She only had limited knowledge of Restoration, not nearly enough to heal these wounds. Crying, Issandi used her hands to crawl through the rest of the ruins. A blood trail followed her, but it was all she could do to get out of this ill-fated place. There was a long way to go, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, give up so easily. 

The entrance was in sight when Issandi could go no further. She had used all of her magicka to get herself that far, but had drained herself by then. She rolled to her back, letting the tears go down her cheeks. A cold hand on her cheek mad her eyes open. “What the hell are you doing here?” she sniffled, turning her head away. “You aren’t supposed to be here."

“I tried to go home,” Gellius told her, pulling a pack from his shoulders. “I couldn’t stay away. The door wouldn’t let me back through to the Fringe, but I begged, Issandi. I begged Sheogorath to let me through. I… He seemed very angry, as though he would appear before me and tear me apart.” Issandi, on the fringes of shock, smirked as she could imagine her Lord pulling his limbs off. “But his voice changed, all of a sudden, and he allowed me entrance. He told me to come here, to find you. Said you needed help. I can see he wasn’t wrong.” 

“Just go home,” her head rolled to one side lazily. 

“Not until I get you out of here.” He pulled her head back, opening her mouth and poured a restorative potion down her throat. Feeling wracked her body, bringing back the pain, but also her resolve. “Please, don’t scream.” He placed a hand on her mangled legs, pushing the bones back under the skin. Issnadi bit her lip, drawing blood, but did not scream. Tears came, but no sound escaped her throat. “Here, drink this.” He wiped the blood from her mouth, bringing another potion to her lips. She cried out as the bones popped, sealing back up again. Issandi tried to move, but she was so sore everywhere. Everything hurt. Gellius helped her stand, letting her lean heavily on his shoulder. She needed him now, and he would help her. Unlike previous times when she was this weak, the once-Champion had no intention of taking advantage of her condition. Things were still falling around them, but not in the masses that they were before. 

“Arg! Just put me down!” she cried when they reached Passwall. “Just let me go!” Gellius obliged, setting her softly on a set of nearby stairs. Udico saw them coming, running up with the only two men left in her force. 

“Your Grace! You… You’re alive! Truly, you are the greatest warrior ever to hold the seat of Dementia!” She looked over Issandi, casting a sort of restoration spell over the beaten Imperial. “I was certain that no one could survive the Spire’s collapse, but here you are! By the Staff, you are more than worthy to lead us.” 

“Thank you, Grakendo,” she panted, tipping her head back. 

“I fear that our work is not yet done. The area is still overrun with Knights that were not destroyed in the Spire. In your condition, you should return to the Palace and speak with our Lord Sheogorath. Ask him how he plans to defend this realm. We will do all we can here, have no fear of that. Grakedrig Ulfri is sending reinforcements for Cylarne to assist us.”

“First, I have to get you home. I can guarantee that Sheogorath will not be pleased to see you.” 

“But you need my help.” Gellius’ brow furrowed, but her glare told him that her statement was final. 

“I needed your help. I don’t anymore. The Grakendo can handle things here, and Sheogorath needs me back at the palace. You are not needed.” 

“You love him don’t you,” he muttered, his voice slightly hostile. 

“What?” She had heard him, but almost didn’t want to believe that he actually said it. 

“Nothing.” He clenched his jaw, walking away from the Duchess. “Good luck, Issandi,” was the last thing he said before disappearing into the fog that had settled around the town. 

Issandi groaned, getting to her feet. Her joints popped, but she could stand. The walk back through the Shivering Isles was long and painful, but she got there as fast as she could. Periodically through her trip she cast restoration over herself, slowly healing the damage that had been done to her. By the time she reached her target, most of the damage had been undone. Sheogorath was pacing on the dais, leaning on his cane. “I see Gellius got to you in time.” There was a harshness in his voice that she hadn’t expected. “The news of your success in the Fringe has preceded you, My mouse. To further cement the victory I have an important task for you to perform.” Issandi hoped that it would not involve dealing with Gellius again. “You will seek the assistance of Relmyna Verenim in Xaslem to rebuild the Gatekeeper. You remember the creature my once-Champion killed to get in here?” 

“As far as I know, he didn’t kill her,” she smirked. Relmyna always had a deep hatred for Issandi, which was gladly returned on her part. 

Sheogorath laughed, one of the few times she had heard it recently. How she missed the way it made her heart flutter. “Strange woman. Has some unusual tastes. You’ll need her help on your task. With the Gatekeeper restored and Xedilian in operation, we won’t have to worry about anything getting in. Things already here are another matter.” 

“I will deal with them, my Lord. You don’t have to worry about that.” 

“With that done, the Fringe should be secure. For now.” He sighed heavily, falling back onto his throne. “I can feel things start to get a little hairy. And not in the good way, like on your head.” 

He was worrying her. He had never seemed so… weak. “How has the Greymarch affected you, my Lord? Don’t try to deny it, I can see it.” 

“It’s all moving faster than I’d expected. And I’m good at expecting. Things are getting thin. We need the Gatekeeper in pace. Do it quickly, if you could. I’m not sure how much time I have left.” Issandi flinched. It sounded as though he were going to die. She couldn’t have that! He was the only man who had earned her respect outside of the family. “He’s almost here,” he started muttering. “I can feel it. You won’t like Him as much as Me. He doesn’t even carry a cane! More like the giant, bone-cleaving sword type of Prince. If He’s on His way, I’m on My way out. I already feel not quite Myself. Not quite someone else… but not quite Myself.” His mind was slipping. He almost didn’t remember her face anymore. Things were getting dire indeed. 

“I will move quickly, my Lord.” Issandi checked in on Carius, seeing that the Palace healer was there to keep him company. He as an odd child, never asked to feed, never seemed to sleep, but he never cried, nor did he seem ill-effected by his odd behavior. She kissed his forehead, stroking a finger across his soft cheek. He was such a beautiful child, she could not let anything happen to him. 

 

*** 

 

“You worm! What are you doing in my home? How dare you enter my sanctum unwelcomed!” Relmyna was just as shrewd now as she had always been. And just as putrid. 

“Our Lord demands a new Gatekeeper, woman!” 

“Oh?” she sneered, turning her back. Issandi had to fight to not take the chance to kill her then. “Does he now?” 

Her nose twitched, catching wind of the Dunmer’s experiments. “He commands it.” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “If it be my Lord’s will, then it is also my own. But, I am too distraught over the death of my child to return to his womb. This, you must do.” The sneer on her face revealed that she was not so saddened as she seemed, just merely attempting to get Issandi out of the way. Her strange infatuation with Sheogorath was the root of her hatred for the woman. She had found the letter she wrote to him, describing with intimate detail how the two of them created the first Gatekeper. It made Issandi shudder, thinking of it. She questioned Sheogorath as to the falsities of the letter, which the Mad God insisted were the woman’s own creations of her mind. “You will travel to the Gardens of Flesh and bone. There, you will gather mystical components needed for the ceremony. Go fetch me Blood Liqueur, Osseous Marrow. Dermis Membrane, and Essence of Breath. And take this key, it will allow you into the Garden and give you direct access to my Sanctum.” Issandi refused the key, grinning. 

“I’ve already been given one. Courtesy of our Lord Sheogorath.” The woman’s lip twitched. 

 

*** 

 

“I bind thee Atronach to this body, henceforth Gatekeeper of the Shivering Isles!” Relmyna raised her hands in the air, a force erupting from the Cistern that knocked Issandi to her knees. Out of the flaming pool walked a Gatekeeper, not to different from the one Gellius had convinced Jayred to kill for him. The iron mask hid his face, with a blade on his arm and carved runes covering his body. He was simply a combination of body parts and flesh, creating the mangled demon that was the guard to the Gates of madness. “My child. It is time to fulfill your destiny. Stand guard in this land against all those who seek entry not bearing the mark of Sheogorath’s favor. You shall know them by the coldness in their minds. A darkness of spirit.” A familiar clanking resounded up the path to where the Imperial and the Dunmer stood, a sound that Issandi hated to recognize. It seemed that Relmyna did as well. “What’s this? My child, they are coming. Destroy them! Show them your true power!” Issandi turned around to see Felas running straight for her, several knights following in tow. She was about to charge the Dunmer, but before she could even move, the new Gatekeeper cleaved the man in two. Blood went everywhere, which made her laugh. He had been so afraid of blood and germs, but that’s all he was now. Nothing left of the man. She turned and left, Relmyna and her new “child” to head back to the Palace. Sheogorath would be needing her again soon, she knew it. 

“A new Gatekeeper!” the Mad God cheered when she arrived. He voice may have been upbeat, but his stature was not. “We might be onto something with you, after all. That should keep out the stragglers. And I see –“ Sheogorath was interrupted when a Aureal messenger came running into the Throne room. 

“Lord Sheogorath! I apologize for the intrusion, but you must help us! Order has attacked Brellach and routed us!” Several wounds covered the Saint’s body, some slightly crystallized, indicating that indeed she had been attacked by Knights. 

“Well, well! What a turn of events this is! It’s new, and I like new, even when its bad. And this is bad, isn’t it? My, my.” The messenger collapsed, her wounds having become too much. Issandi frowned, but she held no pity in her heart for the Saints. “This is a particularly exciting turn of events, is it not?” Sheogorath spoke again. A perfect job fr you, My mouse, My newest and only Noble in the realm! If Order as entered my army’s stronghold, things have taken a disturbing turn. It means Order has tried subterfuge… not its strong suit. Amazing! Perhaps things aren’t going as poorly as I’d imagined!” He tapped the back of his head with his cane, pacing around the dais once again. “It’s a shame about the messenger, we could have gotten all the details from her. Unless you already have. You haven’t have you?” 

“No, I haven’t.” His speech was even getting confusing to her, which was something that never happened. Some things just didn’t seem to fit with this Order attack. Knights attacked Brellach, but their leader hasn’t attacked himself? It didn’t make sense to her. “Why hasn’t Jyggalag come and attacked us directly himself? Doesn’t it seem odd?” 

His eyes widened in surprise. “Aren’t you precious? Do you really not know? Haven’t you noodle it all through yet?” Issandi bit her lip. Of course… “Because He is Me! I’m him! We’re a bit of each other, really. I won’t be here when He arrives, because I’ll be Him.” Issandi hunched her shoulders, looking at her feet and shaking. Sheogorath then did something that surprised her greatly. He put his arms around her and pulled her to his chest in a hug. “Happens every time, My mouse. The Greymarch starts, Order appears, and I become Jyggalag and wipe out My whole Realm.” 

“Can we stop it,” she whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. 

“Stop it? Oh, no. Can’t do it. Believe me, I’ve tried. It never ends well.” She shook again, getting hushes and whispers from the Mad God. “But you’re going to stop the Greymarch. Stop Jyggalag…. Me… from destroying My Realm and everyone in it.” 

“When, Sheogorath, when? How long do we have?” 

“Soon. Too soon. I can already feel the change beginning. I feel like I’m not quite here. I’m not over there yet, but I’m not quite here. My memories are fading, My speech changing. I know you’ve seen it too. And I’ve been having moments of clarity that are quite unlike me. Like now.” 

“Is there anything we can do? What has to be done now?” 

“Now? Nothing has changed! You need to go to Brellach, My little mouse. Make sure My army is secure. You’ll need them. No stopping now. Some things can’t be stopped… Trust me, I’ve tried.” 

“I do trust you. I do.” Issandi pushed herself away from him, closing her eyes and turning her back to him. She trusted him more than he could possibly know, and now he was going to leave. Turn into some… monster and try to kill them all. 

She left immediately for Brellach. The sooner she was finished there, the sooner she could get back to Sheogorath and continue her duties. The sooner she’d be able to stop this all from happening! “Grakedrig!” Issmi, the leading Saint bowed slightly. “Thank you for coming. I apologize for summoning you. The blame is mine. We’ve lost control of Brellach. Thadon let them in… We had no idea he would turn on us.” 

“You mean, you didn’t know he defected?” 

“No, Grakedrig. We didn’t. No one warned us, we were vulnerable. They’ve captured our commander, Staada, and have her imprisoned somewhere inside. Our first priority bust me rescuing her.” 

“Where do they have her?” 

“Thadon had called her aside, separating her from the group. He meant to divide our numbers when Order entered, making us easier targets. They imprisoned Staada somewhere within Brellach. If they kill her, she could return to us through the Wellspring, so they keep her hostage.” Issandi nodded. She had forgotten that detail about the Saints and Seducers. They could all easily return to Sheogorath’s service through their assigned Wellspring. “If we follow the waters of the Wellspring, we will surely find her.” 

“What kind of opposition to expect?” 

“All I know is Thadon let them in. More than I could count. It was all we could do to fall back and regroup out here. We must free Staada as soon as possible. She will know exactly what we should do.” 

“Let’s go rescue your Aurmazl.” 

“Forgive me for saying so, Grakedrig, but I find taking orders from a Dark Seducer to be… unsettling. Normally, you would never be permitted to pass within Brellach. Given the need for swift action, and the fact that you’ve been sent here by Sheogorath, the normal customs shall need to be overlooked for now. We shall be right behind you, Grakedrig.” 

“Right then. Let’s get moving! The longer we wait, the better the hold Order takes on this place.” Issandi pulled Nevershatter from her back, not intending to let these Knights get away as easily as others. She was in too much of a rush to take any chances with a blade. Aureal bodies scattered the entrance, crystallized from being slain by Order. Occasionally, there were one or two that did not made crystals, indicating that Thadon had killed his fair share as well. Obelisks had been brought up throughout the corridor, allowing free access for the Knights to make their entrance. Screaming aloud as she charged, Issandi led the Saints through the disrupted halls of Brellach, crushing the armor of the Order Knights and Priests as she went. Halfway through the stronghold, there was an entire area walled off by crystal. Issandi assumed that had to be where Aurmazl Staada was being kept. A Knight attacked her from the side, but she dodged out of the way just in time for it to go running past. It’s helmet struck a large golden chime, the sound echoing off all the walls. Before her eyes, the crystalline walls shattered and allowed a lone Golden Saint exit. She ran up to Issandi, unarmed and beaten. 

“You have my thanks for freeing me, but… Just who are you?” 

“Issandi, Grakedrig and Duchess of Dementia.” 

“Your Grace!” Issmi fell to one knee, hanging her head. 

“My Lady! I am so sorry, I did not realize.” 

“Don’t fret, I don’t like all the attention anyway.” 

“Where is Thadon? Have you seen him? That traitorous coward!” 

“Tell me what happened here, Aurmazl.” 

“Thadon… the snake. He showed up, asked for a contingent of guards. Said there was trouble, and that we were needed. We were so focused on organizing quickly that by the time we realized he’d let Order in himself, it was too late. We were split up and picked off. But it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters now is the Wellspring. We must reach it at once!” 

“What’s wrong with the Wellspring?” 

“If Thadon helps Order sever the Wellsprings link with the Waters of Oblivion… my kind will be annihilated. The realm will be lost to us. We must get to the Wellspring and stop them! I will follow your lead. The Wellspring is at the heart of Brellach, follow the waters to reach it. I am yours to command, Your Grace.” 

“You can take order of your own troops, Aurmazl. You’ve earned that right. We must all work together to get to the Wellspring.” Issandi had no love for the self-righteous Saints, but she did feel for them. They needed her help, and she would give it. They trudged on, slaughtering any form of Order they came across. Many fell, but even more Saints perished at Order’s hand. By the time they got close to the Wellspring, it was merely Staada, Issmi, and two others. Issandi walked on, but turned to find the others moving far too slow. From their feet, they started to turn to a golden stone. Issmi cried out, her voice getting cut off as the stone took over her throat and face.


	8. Chapter 8

“No!” Staada shouted. “The Wellspring!... They’ve stop it up. You… you must make it to the Wellspring, and let the waters flow.” Stone traveled up Staada’s abdomen, to her chest, freezing her arms in place. She screamed, all sound going quiet as the stone overtook her entire body. Swearing loudly, Issadi struck the side of a nearby chime to allow her passage through a crystallized wall and to the Wellspring. She would teal with Thadon and his ilk, slaughtering each and every last one of them! She was bombarded by several Knights, barely able to fend them off with Nevershatter. But they all fell, one by one, as she ran on. 

The Wellspring was completely covered in a golden tinged Order crystal, a pyramid constructed around it. Surrounding that were at least a dozen Knights, all prepared to give their so called lives for the sake of Order. Screaming, Issandi charged in head first, swinging Nevershatter into several Knights at once, crushing one into the other. Their armor shattered, but she did not come out unscathed. If not for her knowledge of restoration, no matter how little, and the potions in her pack, she may have fallen then and there. But Sheogorath needed her, Carius needed her, and she would fight on. 

The last night crumpled under the war hammer, leaving Issandi gasping in the center of a massacre before the Wellspring. Its condition did not change, leaving her hopeless. She swung Nevershatter into the crystal, dismayed when not even a scratch appeared. Screaming, she grabbed a severed head of a Knight and threw it. The object struck a chime that had been in the corner of the room, emitting a low echo. Issandi perked up, glancing around and noticing three others. One chime caused the crystals around the Wellspring to vibrate, what would three more do? She ran from corner to corner, striking each chime with Nevershatter and watching as the construct shook more violently with each successive impact. With the last chime, it shattered, sending bits of crystal everywhere. Issandi dove behind a pillar, attempting to avoid it, but was caught in the shoulder. She yelled out, falling to the ground and covering her head as more pieces scattered around her. 

“Your Grace!” a familiar voice caused her to look up. 

“Kaneh?” 

“Grakedrig? I’m sorry, I had been told the Duchess of Dementia was here.” The Aurmazl helped Issandi to her feet, pulling the crystal shard from her back and healing the wound. 

“I am the Duchess of Dementia.” 

“My apologies! Is that traitorous Gellius here? He’ll learn what it’s like to turn on the Golden Saints.” 

“No, he’s gone home. He was no longer needed by our Lord.” 

“I see.” The Saint glanced around the room, the conversation dissolving into an awkward silence. 

“I must go find Aurmazl Staada.“ 

“Yes, of course.” Kaneh bowed at the hip, taking her blade and leaving the Wellspring. 

“The wellspring is restored!” the Aureal commander cheered in thanks. “You have saved us. We are forever grateful, Your Grace. Please, allow me to give you this spell, so that you may summon our knind to you in times of need.” Staada placed a hand on Issandi’s cheek, muttering some things in her native tongue. As she did, she could feel the knowledge and power flowing through her body, flesh and bones alike. 

“Was Thadon ever found? He was not here in the Wellspring when I arrived.” 

“No sign of him yet. We’ll do our best to track him down, and deliver him to Lord Sheogorath for a fitting punishment. The traitor must be brought to justice!” 

“What will you do now, Aurmazl?” 

“Our warriors will scour the halls of Brellach, removing any last elements of opposition. Then, we will immediately return to our duties.” 

“Then I shall leave you be. Good luck, Aurmazl Staada.” 

“Indeed. I’m sure Lord Sheogorath will be anxious to hear of our victory here. Thank you for your assistance, Your Grace.” 

 

*** 

 

Issandi pushed past Mazken and Aureals, running to get to the Palace. She was still covered with gore from fighting to take back Brellach. She had sprinted back from Brellach, seeing that most of Mania had been rendered Ordered by Priests and Knights alike. The realm of her Lord had been mostly diminished by Order already, New Sheoth was in danger of being next. She ran into the main hall to find Sheogorath pacing restlessly as Haskill stood back. “Approach, dear Issandi,” He whispered. She winced. He had never called her by her actual name before. Not even as a child. “The time is near.” 

“No, no, no, no,” she kept telling herself. He was the only man outside of her family she trusted, he couldn’t leave her now. He… he just couldn’t. 

“And I am fading.” Reality sank deep into Issandi’s bones, and she shook violently. “Time. Time is an artificial construct. An arbitrary system based on the idea that events occur in a linear direction at all times. Always forward, never back. Is the concept of time correct? Is time relevant? It matters not. One way or another, I fear that our time has run out. As I feared it would, My plan has failed. The Greymarch is upon us, and I must go. I thought we had more time. I thought we had a chance. My plan has failed. And we were so close....” 

“But we haven’t failed!” Issandi shouted in his face. “We can set things right! Brellach functions once more! We can stop the Greymarch!” 

“Optimism! How adorable! I love it! Even at the end, you make me laugh.” He chuckled for a moment, his expression turning suddenly boring. “I'm lying. That wasn't funny at all. No matter. Soon you and everyone else will be dead, and I will be left a mad god, ruler of a dead realm. Again. Flee now, dear Issandi, I don’t want you to be here when the slaughter starts. I don’t want to know that I killed you too.” 

“No, Sheo…” she gasped. “My Lord, there has to be something we haven’t tried yet.” 

“I had intended to give you My staff, the symbol of My office. But life has gone from it, as it goes from Me. It is now dead wood. A useless twig. With the staff, there was hope. But now, hope is dead. I am dead.” Sheogorath’s voice, with its oddly attractive accent faded into an ungodly roar. “The realm is dead! Sheogorath is dead! All shall crumble before Jyggalag!” Issandi shrunk back, closing her eyes against tears as he crumpled to the ground, Order crystals protruding from his back, tearing through his regalia. He screamed out, his voice fading back and forth between its usual tone and the roaring boom as more crystals tore through flesh and fabric

“No, no, no, no, no,” was all Issandi could mumble as he screamed, his body growing along with the crystals. 

“Jyggalag has arrived!” he shouted at last, vanishing in a crack of thunder. 

“Haskill… what do we do?” 

“He is gone, but hope is not lost.” 

“What do you mean, hope is not lost? Our Lord is gone! Sheogorath is gone!” 

“Be calm, Issandi. We have a rare opportunity here, but I do hesitate to do what must be done.” 

“What? Tell me!” Tears brimmed her eyes, but she dared not cry. 

“If the Throne of Madness remains empty when Jyggalag storms the palace, he will prevail. But there is a chance that the throne may not be empty.” 

“Carius…” 

“Precicely. I presume that it was Sheogorath’s intention to have young Carius to sit upon the Throne of Madness.” 

“But he’s not a Daedric Prince. And he’s just a baby!” 

“Our Lord’s will may surprise you. He endowed the child with his own essence, which would give him the power of a Daedric Prince. Such a thing has never happened before, and this may be the chance we need. He may still be a child yet, but if you possess the proper symbol of office, that may not matter. Namely, the Staff of Sheogorath.” 

“Just tell me what to do, Haskill.” 

“Unfortunately, when Sheogorath faded, the power of the Staff faded with me. It must now be remade. The staff is the symbol of power in this Realm. He who rightfully holds the Staff may hold the throne of the Shivering Isles. However, the secrets of its construction are lost.” 

Issandi’s knuckles met Haskill’s cheek. “Lost? I thought you said we had a chance! Haskill!” 

“That which is lost can be found again! There is but one being in the Shivering Isles who may be able to assist you in the construction of a new Staff.” 

“Just tell me!” 

“The ruins of Knifepoint Hollow once served as a great library. There, you will find a door.” 

“And?” 

“Behind that door, you will find the answer you seek. Although…” 

“Haskill, don’t make me hit you again. I won’t go so easy this time.” 

“I hesitate to guide you towards this path. The secrets of the past will surely aid Jyggalag, but I fear that we have no other choice. Be mindful of what you find there. The library is a thing of Order, and it will still serve that end.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“Take this crystal. It contains the power to open the sealed door. Inside, you will find the final remnants of the library.” 

Issandi took the Order crystal from his hand. It was no different from the Heart of Order she had carved from the chest of the Knights in the Fringe. “Haskill… You talk too much.” 

Knifepoint Hollow rested near the center of the Isles, only slightly north of the dividing line between Mania and Dementia. Issandi entered cautiously, knowing this place was built by and for Order. She wasn’t too deep into the ruins when she saw the door she needed to pass. The crystal in her pack was vibrating violently, giving her an ache. She took it out, pressing the object to the door, jumping back when it fell apart. Through the gap, there was a man sitting on a nearly completely destroyed throne. He must have been there for ages. “I have been waiting for you,” his dusty voice called out to her. Issandi twitched, remembering when Sheogorath had said that to Gellius. Was everything going to torture her and remind her of him? “This day, as all days before and after, is well known to me. There are no surprises in the Dyus of Mytheria. Sheogorath has fallen and you seek the means to foil the machinations of the Prince of Order. You seek the Trone of Madness for your son, who has been given the Mad God’s essence. However, he may not sit on upon the throne without the staff. So here you are in my prison, seeking to supplant the one who placed me here. If you wish to have your son take the place of Sheogorath, then ask me what you will.” 

“I need to know how to create the Staff of Sheogorath, as you no doubt know. And you will tell me.” 

“Will I? Hmm, perhaps I will. I can create the physical shell of the Staff, but the divine essence must be gathered elsewhere. But, apotheosis is no simple matter and the creation of the staff is no simple task. I will require two sacred items in order to complete it.” 

“Just tell me what they are, and I will kill anyone or anything to get them here.” 

“The Shivering Isles holds many secrets but few remain unseen by mortal eyes. The Staff is a tool of great wisdom and thus requires the eye of one who has witnessed one of these unseen secrets firsthand. Ciirta resides in the Howling halls of Mania. Find her and bring me the eye that has seen that which no other has.” 

“And the second?” 

“The trees and branches of this Realm feed from a deep font of madness and mystery. One of the oldest trees, named the Tree of Shades, lies in the halls of Milchar. Milchar is a place of ruin, root, and mania. Go there an bring me a branch of this tree, but be warned – the tree will not surrender its secrets two one who has not earned them.” 

“All I have to do is bring you these two items and you’ll create the Staff? Just like that?” 

“Yes. Only then can I create an appropriate vessel to hold the power that is inherent in the lord of this realm. The Staff may allow your son to occupy the Throne of Madness, but understand that such a feat has never been attempted. No mortal vessel has been given the essence of a Daedric Prince before. All sources indicate that you will fall, and through you your son. It is a certainty.” Isssandi took in a sharp breath. She was going to fail? She and Carius were both going to die by Jyggalag’s hand? No! She couldn’t let that happen! “However, I also predict that this will not stop you from trying.” She nearly hit him, but instead held her anger in and left the ruins. The faster she moved, the better her chance. 

Milchar was the closest of her targets, but also had the more indestructible of the items she needed to acquire. An eye was just too fragile to take any farther than it had to be. The Howling Halls would be her final stop. 

Milchar had long been buried underneath the landscape of the Isles, the only entrance to it being a root system that ran through it. Her target, the center of the roots, was well guarded by Gnarls but they fell quickly and easily to a combination of fire spells and Nevershatter. The Grove of Reflection, where the Tree of Shades extracted its life source, was a tranquil looking place with a small pond of water and several smaller plants and bushes surrounding it. In the very center was a tall stone structure, glowing blue runes carved into its edges. It called to Issandi, bringing her towards it. She placed a single hand on its surface, falling back as streams of light came pouring out of it. They flew above her head for a moment before converging on the edge of the pond. Where they vanished stood an identical copy of herself carrying a two handed black blade, her face twisted in a sick hatred. She laughed, charging the original Issandi. The copy swung her black blade high, crashing into her shield. She stumbled, rolling to the back side of the stone rune to avoid an electrical shock thrown at her. The original Issandi’s mind raced. How was she supposed to defeat a copy of herself? One that was so clearly corrupted by anger. The black blade chipped the stone as it came around above her head, causing her to yelp in surprise. Jumping back, Issandi brought up the dark sword at her side to block her copies thrust, getting to her feet as quick as she could manage. 

The copy kept constant pressure on her, always forcing her backwards, never allowing her to take a step in attack. It may have been an identical copy, but whatever this was, it seemed to have no fatigue! She constantly looked for gaps in the attack, but was often too distracted from defending herself to act on them. Realizing she had made a mistake and backed herself into a wall, the original Issandi brought her shield up close to her face and thrust forward, knocking her copy off balance. As it stumbled, she thrust forward, catching its shoulder with the edge of her blade. The copy shrieked like a banshee, reeling away from her. Issandi panted heavily, holding her blade with both hands, her arms slack. Screaming, she jumped forward and locked their blades between the two of them, glaring down into her own face. Always carrying a dagger, like her mother taught her to, the original grabbed her side arm and slammed it down into shoulder, jamming the blade between its shoulder blade and collar bone. The copy let out another screech, falling to its back but quickly rolling to its feet. They circled each other, both panting heavily. Issandi feinted right, angling her blade left at the last second and caught her double deep in the side. It dropped to its knees, swinging the black blade around and catching the original Issandi’s shin guards. The force of the attack took her from her feet, landing face first in the water. The copy attempted to drive the blade down between her shoulder blades, but she pushed herself into the legs of her copy and brought it down with her. They wrestled in the water, each trying to get the upper hand. Issandi pushed her double back under the water, grabbing its neck and slamming its head back into the stone bottom. There was a loud crack, but still her copy fought back. Even choking it didn’t seem to have an effect. The copy Issandi grabbed the blade out of its shoulder, stabbing it into the original’s arm, embedding the tip in her bone. She was thrown off her double, landing hard on her back. A particularly large stone crashed into her lower spine, sending a large wave of pain through her body. She cried out, pushing herself to her knees. It was hard to move, her entire body throbbing. The muscles around the blade in her arm started twitching, but that was only a minor inconvenience compared to the pain in her back. She pulled the blade from her arm, slamming it down into the dirt with an angry shout. 

Issandi’s copy got to its feet, picking up its black blade again. It pulled the blade back behind its head, intending to end the fight with a single cut down on the original’s neck. But she refused to go out this way. Issandi gripped her dagger tight, burying it in her double’s thigh before pulling it down and using her other arm to grab the back of her opponents armor. The force pulled her double to its knees, allowing her to pull it closer and bury the short blade in its neck. It shrieked, a black dust flying from its mouth as it slowly vanished into thin air. The black blade it had been wielding sank to the bottom of the pool, not vanishing with it. It confused Issandi, but the blade itself seemed to beckon her, as the stone effigy did. She picked it up cautiously, testing the balance. It was a perfect blade, but it was evil. None the less, she carried it with her as she cut off a large enough section of the Tree of Shades to be used for the Staff. The plan better work, or she’d kill Haskill before Jyggalag got the change. If she went through all that for nothing, there’d be hell to pay.

 

*** 

 

Ciirta had evaded Issandi’s wrath once before, but she would not do so again. The woman was nothing but a heretic, a bug to be crushed under her boot. All who opposed Sheogorath were her enemy, but just the thought of them celebrating the loss of Mad God made her stomach turn. She would slaughter all of the Apostles of Light to get to their leader and cut out her eye, no matter the cost. 

Upon entering the Howling Halls, Issandi found and killed three apostles, stripping them of their weapons so that no other could use them against her. The fools had set up a throne of sorts adorned with gifts and sacrifices to one who she could only assume was Ciirta. The fools. She took what she needed, knowing she could put the gold and treasures to good use. 

Issandi entered the next room, about to cut down a Khajiiti apostle, but he cowered before her. “You… you do not belong here,” he said, crouching down in the corner. “Please! I mean you no violence.” She sheathed her blade, helping him to his feet. 

“Give me a reason not to kill you,” she hissed. She didn’t have time for this! 

“Please, do relax… we have a common goal. You see, I know that you have not come here to join us… Your Grace.” Issandi took a step back in surprise. “One so famous as you cannot expect to walk around the Isles unrecognized, can you? You are the Duchess, yes? And Sheogorath as sent you to find Ciirta, has he not? He finally seeks to kill her?” 

She turned her face away, not wanting to show this stranger how hard she was fighting against the tears. “Sh… Sheogorath has gone.” 

“Still, for whatever reason you are here, you mean Ciirta ill, yes? Don’t bother refuting me, I know the truth. Yes, I do. But, there are those of us here who want her gone as well, yes. Those of us who think that maybe we could lead better than she does. So, if you will help me, I will help you. Ciirta will die and you will not need to lift a finger. Then you can take whatever you need and go.” 

“It can’t be as easy as that. What do you need from me?” 

“I require weapons. For myself and for the Apostles that will help me do the deed. But Ciirta is already suspicious of me.” Issandi rolled her eyes. He knew nothing of tactics. “She has forbidden me and those who support me from carrying weapons. And suspicious would it look if we were to wander around gathering them.” 

“All you want me to do is bring you these weapons?” 

“Yes. Bring me three Apostle daggers. Ciirta must be slain with weapons of the light if I am to take her place. No other weapons. But you must be discreet. You have to wear our robes, or you will be attacked on sight. Even I will have to kill you, so I do not draw more suspicion to myself. Here, you can wear these.” He handed her a folded purple robe, a small light emitting from it. Issadi groaned. She hated enchantments. She slipped the cloth over her head, concealing most of her Seducer armor, but was forced to remove her boots and shoulder guards to keep from attracting attention. “Very good. Be cautious of killing my allies. I cannot forgive that crime. You will know them, as they are also forbidden to carry daggers. Will you help me bring the Apostles to the light? And help yourself?” Issandi had no intention of letting any of the Apostles live through this, but if she could get this Khajiit and a few others to kill Ciirta for her, all the better. 

“I already have your daggers, Apostle.” 

“You do? Give them to me, and we can start now! I did not think it would be so easy!” She handed them over reluctantly, keeping a hand on her own blade in case he should attack. “”Tonight, the light will shine for us all. Tonight, Ciirta’s time comes to an end.” She followed him through a few doors, leading to a mass collection of apostles in the same robes. The Khajiit approached two, who Issandi assumed to be his allies for the lack of weapons. “Take these daggers!” he whispered, handing them discreetly over. “Slay her and at last we can be on our path to true enlightenment. Here you are, my brothers! At last we will be rid of Ciirta! Come! Now is the time!” The three of them took off, Issandi following close behind. They ran through the tunnels, coming to an area that looked to be like a form of cambers. 

“Ra’kheran?” the female Imperial in white robes looked taken aback. It was indeed Ciirta. Issandi kept her face hidden, hoping that she would not recognize her. “You come to me with blades drawn? What is the meaning of this?” 

“I come to relieve you of your torment, dear Ciirta. No more lost memories. No more pain. No more misleading us. To the void we will send you. Without you, we will gain the light.” 

“You fool! I am the light!” The Imperials eyes traveled over them all, settling on Issandi. “You’ve brought the enemy right to us? She will kill us all! She’s nearly done so once!” Ra’Kheran looked surprised, but his anger was still clearly directed at Ciirta. “Come at me, if you dare. I will cast you all into the darkness for the rest of eternity!” All of them summoned their own beasts, attack each other as if they all had nothing else to live for. Issandi stood back, watching as a Nord jumped into the fighting as well. Numbers working to their advantage, Ra’Kheran and the other Apostles succeeded in bringing the Imperial and the Nord to their deaths. 

“Ciirta is dead, and now the Apostles will fear that there is no one to lead them to the light. I should be the one who is leading, however. Do I have your support?” 

“Of course,” she whispered in his ear, driving her blade through his chest. Issandi dropped him to the floor, quickly killing the other two Apostles before they had a chance to react. The others would be none the wiser as she executed each of them individually. When the last was finally dead, she removed the enchanted robes and reequipped the portions of her armor that she was forced to remove. 

Issandi grabbed a spoon from the dining area, returning to Ciirta’s quarters to finish the job. It was dirty work, and she was not too pleased to do it, but she got the eye and quickly left the Howling Halls. After all this time, she had finally dealt with Ciirta and her followers. Sheogorath would have been proud of her. 

Dyus was where she had left him, still sitting in his chair, still looking as though he’d crumble to dust at any moment. “You have the items,” he spoke in his dreary voice. “Contrary to all prediction. Once again, you defy the path set before you. However, what comes next is now unclear. If you wish to confront what is to come, I shall create the staff for you.” 

“Do it!” she shouted in his face, holding her sword to his throat. 

He didn’t even appear fazed by her actions. “You don’t have to get violent. The Staff of Sheogorath holds the secrets of this Realm. As such, it requires a vessel that has witness dark secrets. Ciirta has seen things with her eyes that no mortal has. Because of this, her eye will serve well to contain that which the staff must hold. Now that you have both components, I can remake the shell of the staff.” 

“So do it already! I don’t have a lot of time!” 

“No, you don’t. You posses the eye and the branch. Together they shall form the physical shape of the Staff of Sheogorath. After I shape them into the Staff, you must take it to the seat of power in the Shivering Isles – the Palace of Sheogorath. There, imbue the Staff with power from the Tree of Madness. Soak the staff in the waters of the land, and it will open its full power to you. You have defied the expected and accomplished something that denies all logic. I must contemplate the error of my calculations.” Dyus hovered the roots of the Tree of Shades over his lap, moving Ciirta’s eye to fit pleasantly in the crook on the end. It spun in a tight circle, the wood and eye glowing as it slowly took the shape of the Staff that Issandi remembered so well. “Now, take your treasure and leave me.” Issandi left the chamberlain of Order as she was asked, sprinting back to the palace. Order was fast approaching the palace, meaning everyone was in danger. Her son included. 

Haskill was still pacing the throne room when she arrived, his expression grim. “Ah, you’re back…” 

“What is it?” The way he was looking at her made her heart stop. He had never looked so distraught. “You may have noticed we have a… bit of a problem.” Issandi grabbed his throat, cutting off his air. 

“What kind of problem?” Then her eyes settled on the Tree of Madness behind Sheogorath’s throne. It was completely covered in Order crystals. 

“My Lady Duchess of course noticed the Font when you arrived in the palace,” he coughed, trying to loosen her grip. “The Font of Madness, in the middle of the throne room. The Font which is unaccountably covered with crystals.” Haskill could see the frustration in her eyes, the pain that seeing this was causing her. “Its Order. The taint appeared only a short time ago, but it has spread quickly. I fear that soon we will all be serving a new mast—” 

“No!” she screamed, throwing him to the ground. “I will NOT let that happen! Jyggalag will kill my son because he carries the essence of Sheogorath, and I won’t let that happen! I’ll die first!” 

“His agents must have found a way to poison the Font with Order. Once the source of Madness becomes the Font of Order, Jyggalag has won.” 

“But he won’t! He won’t win, Haskill! He can’t!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she yelled at him, but she couldn’t help it.”We’ve beaten him at every turn so far! There has to be something we can do!” 

“This is true. Very little surprises me, but your successes against the advance of Order have left me astonished. Speechless. Indeed it is your very success that must have led Jyggalag to this unexpected avenue of attack. His usual approach is must less imaginative.” 

“What do we have to do to stop him Haskill?” Issandi was exhausted, ready to drop at any moment. But she had to keep going if to only make sure that her son survives. Even if that meant she worked herself to death. 

“Somehow the forces of Order have poisoned the Pools of mania and Dementia that feed the Font. I suspect the traitor Thadon. Jyggalag has never had an original thought in his existence. Be that as it may. You will have to enter the Fountainhead beneath the Tree and find the source of the poison. You know the way well, Lady Duchess.” She did, but she knew that the entire time she was beneath those roots, she’d be thinking of Sheogorath. But she had to keep going, she had to beat the Greymarch. For him. 

Issandi sprinted around the Tree of Madness, booking it through the roots. A webbing coated in Order made her cry out. She couldn’t get through. Even cracking Nevershatter against its surface seemed to do nothing. When she was pushed out of the way by a tame Gnarl, she watched as it opened the crystallized webbing with ease. She followed it through the root systems, leading it by a branch through each of the gates that she needed open. But down there with them were Gnarls that had been tainted and were spreading Order through the roots. Those attacked Issandi and the tame Gnarl that was assisting her, impeding their path. Using a combination of fire spells and her blade, she carved her way through the roots with her companion following. 

“Fool! Order will rule you all!” a priest shouted at her when she arrived to a small pond prior to the Pool of Mania. Screaming, she cut him down and mutilated his corpse out of anger. No one serving Order would escape her wrath. She’d slaughter them all! Issandi reached the Pool of Mania quickly, seething when she saw Thadon preaching to the other Priests before a large, nonfunctioning Obelisk. 

“You. Of course. Sheogorath’s assassin,” he mocked when he saw her. Ever since he sent Gellius and her on that quest to retrieve the Chalice, she’d wanted to cut his throat out. Now she had the chance. Slaughtering the other priests, she pinned Thadon under her boot. “No. Please, no. Order did it. Not me. They made me. It was all Order! Unless it was… me?” 

“You’ve got it right this time, fetcher. Join your precious Syl now.” 

“Syl? Yes, I’ll join her. Is she here?” 

“Not here,” Issandi crushed his skull under her boot, “she’s there.” After she had killed Thadon, the Obelisk retreated back down into the ground, removing the stain from the Pool of Mania. 

The Pool of Dementia was tainted in a similar way, and was quickly removed. Back in the throne room, the Font of madness flowed once more. Issandi plunged the newly finished Staff into the Font. A new power seemed to wash over it, the entire Staff trembling in her hands. This was the Staff of Sheogorath now, to be given to her son to wield. “Grakedrig!” one of the Mazken called, running down the center off the throne room. “Autkendo Jansa sent me to find you. She requests your immediate assistance.” The Dark Seducer in question stood by the entrance, motioning her over. 

“I will speak to her at once."

“Thank you. She wishes to discuss matters of the gravest import to the security of the realm. Time is of the essence.” Issandi followed her to the edge of the room, where Autkendo Jansa was waiting for her. 

“Your Grace, I’m glad to see you. We have a developing situation that requires your attention.” 

“Just tell me what it is.” 

“Order. An obelisk has activated just outside the Palace. I’ve ordered my Mazken to engage the enemy. I expect that this is the beginning of the final assault. We will defend the Palace to the end of our strength, and will cast ourselves in the path of cursed Jyggalag himself should he come here.” 

“No, you will not do that Autkendo. Defend the Palace as you see fit, but I will be the one to face down Jyggalag. I have personal business with him.” A pang of sorrow hit Issandi in the chest. No! Jyggalag was not Sheogorath. Her Lord was gone, and this God of Order, and biscuits, was not him. A Knight of Order shattered the door, taking down one of the Mazken guards in a single strike. The corpse slowly turned to crystal, as Issandi had seen so many times before. Screaming, she thrust her short sword up under the crystal chest plate, withdrawing the blade to decapitate it. “Autkendo, we need to finish this. I will not lose anyone else.” 

“Yes, Your Grace. It will be our great honor to fight by your side.” Issandi charged out first, her eyes settling on the glowing crystal at the base of the courtyard. There were two Obelisks there, but only one had activated. For the moment. Knights swarmed the courtyard, pulling themselves from the now active Obelisk. The other was inactive, but Issandi knew that wouldn’t last long. Saints and Seducers fought side by side to demolish their opponents, but several of their own fell in the process. The only recently inducted Duchess swung Nevershatter as though it was the last thing she was going to do, and she suspected it would be. Even if it cost her the life she had, she would end this Greymarch and defeat Jyggalag. 

Issandi had just crushed the chest plate of a Knight when she glanced over and saw the other Obelisk activate. It glowed purple, several more Knights of Order pulling themselves from its structure. Cursing loudly, she charged the other half of the courtyard, slaying a Knight just before it assaulted Autkendo Jansa from behind. “Thank you, Your Grace!” she called in thanks as Issandi continued on her rampage. Remembering what had happened with the Obelisk back in the Fringe, she started throwing the corpses into the structures until they shut themselves down. It seemed that maybe the fight was over, but a loud cracking of thunder told them all otherwise. A massive form dropped from the sky in a stream of white light, wearing a full crystalline body armor that was similar, but more intricate than that of the Knights. Jyggalag had taken the field.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter.

“This ends as it always does,” his monotone voice boomed over the courtyard. Autkendo Jansa charged him, but was split in half from a giant sweep of his sword.“Order shall reign!” 

“Over my dead body,” Issandi cursed under her breath. She ran straight for him, realizing she only came up to his knee. Jyggalag threw his fist out, catching her in the abdomen, and threw her across the courtyard. Her back slammed against a pillar, her helmet cracking the stone. A massive blade entered her line of sight, and she was only just able to pull her shield up to block it before it ended her life then and there. 

“Kneel before the might of Jyggalag!” Issandi rolled around the other side of the pillar before he could strike again, jumping as the blade came down where she stood. “Another of Sheogorath’s foolish schemes.” The Prince of Order’s strikes were slow, but if any of them were to land, Issandi could die right there. The armor around his body prevented her from dealing any critical strikes, and she wished she had taken Dawnfang from Gellius before he left. That blade seemed to have no trouble getting through the Order armor. She ran around the other side of an Obelisk, falling to the ground as she tried to catch her breath. There was no way she could defeat him as exhausted as she was. “Are you the best the Madgod could muster?” Jyggalag’s defiant voice reached her ears. 

“Yes,” she said quietly, breathing slowly. “And I will show you that it only takes one to bring down a so called ‘God’.” Issandi charged out from around the Obelisk, leaving Nevershatter where she sat. The heavy weapon wouldn’t be enough to bring him down, and would only tire her more as dead weight. The blade at her side would be enough. 

“You dare stand before Jyggalag? Fool!” His blade dug into the dirt beside Issandi, but she had the agility to avoid the attack and get close enough to the Daedric Prince to dig her sword into his ankle, causing him to shout in pain. “The Realm of Madness will be mine!” Issandi ran around the back side of his legs, reaching a hand up to grab hold of his armor. Her grip slipped slightly when Jyggalag turned around, searching for her, but she held on and was able to climb up his armor to the waist. “Foolish mortal!” He reached back around, attempting to pull her from his back, but missed. The claws of his crystal gauntlet tore open Issandi’s back, causing her to scream aloud and nearly taking her off his back. She clung close to his body, realizing this was the closest she had ever been to Jyggalag, Sheogorath, or whoever the hell he was, and it was only because she was trying to kill him. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she knew she had to keep going. Her Lord had trusted the security of the realm to her, and she intended on fulfilling her duty to her last breath. Even if Sheogorath was truly gone, she’d make sure his legacy lived on. Jyggalag spun around, his hands swiping at his back attempting to throw Issandi from his armor, but she ducked and dodged every attempt. He managed to get a hand on her, wrapping his crystal fingers around her arm, shouting, “Bow before the power of Order!” Screaming, she drove her blade in between the sections of crystal that appeared embedded in his white skin, avoiding the blood as he let her go. 

Issandi climbed up his armor, wrapping her legs around his neck when she reached his shoulders. Jyggalag shouted in frustration, grabbing at her, but she continued to avoid his grip. Holding the pommel of her blade, she hesitated to do what she knew she must. This may have been Jyggalag, but the fact that in a way he was still Sheogorath stayed her hand. “Order shall rule! You cannot stop it! Sheogorath is dead!” His words rang in Issandi’s head, tripping the nerve that was needed. Screaming, she drove her blade between his helmet and chest plate, the blood spraying over her face and chest. Tears fell down her cheek as her skin started to crystallize, but she kept going. Repeatedly she stabbed the soft spot at the base of his neck, more and more of the Order crystals spreading across her body. Time seemed to slow as the form of Jyggalag collapsed in the center of the Palace courtyard. Issandi rolled off his back, the crystals that formed on her body still growing as she slowly got to her feet, wavering a bit. Behind her, the Prince of Order’s body vanished, evaporating into a white mist. In the center, a face hidden by his helm appeared. “Enough!” his voice boomed. “I am beaten. The Greymarch is ended. For millennia this drama has unfolded, and each time, I have conquered this land, only to be transformed back into that gibbering fool, Sheogorath.” Issandi’s anger boiled over once more, and she attempted to throw a wave of shock at him, but the crystals had extended over her hands and prevented her from using her magicka. “It was not always so. Once, I ruled this Realm, a world of perfect Order. My domination expanded across the seas of Oblivion with each passing area. The other Princes, fearful of my power, cursed me with Madness, doomed me to live as Sheogorath, a broken soul reigning in a broken land.” She actually found his tale touching, but it was slowly sinking in that Sheogorath wasn’t coming back. He never really was Sheogorath, but instead a cursed Jyggalag. “Once each era, I was allowed my true form, conquering this world anew. And each time I did, the curse was renewed, damning me to exist as Sheogorath. Now, though, you have ended the cycle, in no small part thanks to that fool. Carius now holds the mantle of madness, and Jyggalag is free to roam the voids of Oblivion once more. I will take my leave, and you will remain here, vampire. This Realm belongs to your son. Perhaps he will grow to his station. Fare thee well, Issandi, Mother of Madness.” Issandi watched as Jyggalag’s face vanished into the mist that had formed it, her own vision slowly fading to black. 

She woke some time later, the crystals that had formed on her face scattered around her. The war was over. Jyggalag was defeated, the Realm saved. But she still felt empty. Sheogorath was dead, the only evidence of his existence was her son. Carius! Issandi snapped to, jumping to her feet and running up the steps of the courtyard, through the halls of the palace to her quarters in the back of the House of Dementia. She threw open the door, stopping in her tracks. In the back of the room an odd man was looking into a silver plate and using one of her daggers to trim his black beard. What caught her attention, however, was the fact that he was completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing on him. 

“Who are you,” she demanded. “And why are you in my quarters?” He paused, setting down the knife and the silver plate to turn to her. His eyes gleamed blue and gold. 

“You don’t recognize me?” 

“No. Either give me your name or get out.” 

“I’m Carius, your son.” Issandi’s heart stopped. Could this be Carius? Her Carius? The boy who was just an infant hours before? How… how had this happened? She felt woozy, but strong arms caught her. They felt so comfortable, so familiar. 

“Sheo?” she whispered, looking up into eyes she recognized. 

“No, Carius. I’m Carius.” Her head throbbed. How was all of this happening? Sheogorath dead, Jyggalag gone, and Carius… Carius grown? Then she remembered Jyggalag’s words: “Perhaps he will grow to his station.” She did not think he meant literally. 

Issandi rested her head for a while, thrashing back and forth as images of her late Lord passed through her mind. Gasping for breath, she woke from her nap. Carius, wearing the regalia of Sheogorath, sat at the table with a goblet of water. “Why are you in that?” she demanded. It made her angry that he would dare sport those, of all the clothes available in the Shivering Isles. 

“Haskill gave them to me. They fit quite nicely.” 

“Take them off!” 

Carius swallowed hard, walking over to the bed and taking a seat beside her. “He said I am the new Prince of Madness. The new Sheogorath. I am a Daedric Prince.” She could then see it in his face. The shape of his eyes, the curve of his cheekbones. When she had run crying to Sheogorath, he had indeed blessed her child. Gellius may have conceived him, but the Mad God was without a doubt his father. She broke down crying, leaning into Carius’ shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. 

“It’s alright, shh, it’s alright.” 

“I know,” she sobbed. “I- I still can’t believe he’s gone.” 

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to her. “Haskill said he found this on the throne the day Sh… He left, and that you might want to read it.” On it was the familiar scrawled writing of Mad God, the original Sheogorath. Eagerly she snatched it from her son’s hand, reading over it quickly. 

 

_ My dear little mouse,  _

_ I’m afraid our time has come. I don’t feel like Me. Or maybe I’m just starting to feel like Me. Whatever the case Sheogorath is coming to an end. Carius was My gift of madness to you, My lovely little mouse. Take good care of him. I know you will. Jyggalag, Me, will do whatever He can to kill young Carius and take the Throne of Madness. You must not let that happen. He, I, Me, cannot kill Carius. Haskill will know what to do, he’s the smart sort. Has more brains than a brain pie. I think I told you that once, but I do not remember. My mind is slipping from Me, and I cannot do anything to stop it. Flee, My little mouse. Flee before I kill you and our son. It would tear Me apart if I returned to find that I had destroyed you both. This is My last order for you, and is probably the most important for you to complete. Return to your mother, your father, your brother. You’ll be safer with them. I never say please, but I will. Please, flee with him. Go home. To your real home. The one you missed as a child. I think I loved you once, My mouse. But My mind is a mess of Grummite insides. I don’t know things anymore. I think I did, once. It seems right. I love you, my beautiful little mouse. Like a daughter, like a lover, I do not know. But I loved you once.  _

_ Please go, run, leave, or die  _

_ Sheogorath _

 

Issandi clutched the letter to her chest, letting her tears flow freely. Carius didn’t read the letter before he gave it to her, as he knew it would be something for her eyes only. The way she reacted, he must have been right. All she needed now was comfort from a familiar face, but perhaps the only face she wanted to see was long gone. 

Sheogorath ended the era of one God. With Carius, the era of another begins. The Staff would be passed on to Him, and a new Prince of Madness would take the Throne of the Shivering Isles.


End file.
